


Queen of Creation

by ForeverAlone5



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Pining, Romance, any other tags feel free to comment, cuddles and snuggles, let's see how long I can keep writing this, no beta we die like idiots, please read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 114,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverAlone5/pseuds/ForeverAlone5
Summary: Sage didn't expect to find a police box on her way home or to find an unconscious alien inside it. She thought she'd live the normal picket fence life, but the Doctor and the TARDIS came crashing in and her plans had to change.
Relationships: Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler & Original Female Character(s), Tenth Doctor & Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who) & Original Female Character(s), The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 48





	1. Sage Tran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was just walking home, but curiosity killed the cat.
> 
> ...
> 
> Of course, satisfaction brought it back.

The cold, chilly air hit Sage’s face as she walked down the dark street. Dim street lamps lit up the sidewalk, as she rounded a corner toward her home.

She tucked a stray, black hair behind her ear and pulled her beanie down to cover her ears, tightening her grip on her bag with her other hand. As Sage rounded another corner, a loud wheezing echoed in an alley.

Sage paused in front of the alley, facing the dark. She bit her bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to look for the source of the sound. 

“Don't do it, Sage. Every time a white person goes looking for something, they get killed. Don't do it.” she said under her breath.

Sage walked away from the sound, but questions bubbled in her mind. She silently groaned, knowing she made up her mind.

She shook her head, muttering, “Damn your curiosity, Sage Tran.” Taking a step forward, she started walking toward and down the dark alley.

Paying no mind to the trash littered on the ground, she reached the end of the alley.

Sage squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness and blinked when she saw a giant blue police box.

“That's odd,” she muttered. “Police boxes went out of fashion ages ago, they wouldn't still be here now.”

She looked up at the box, tilting her head to the side as she took in its features. 

Its faded blue paint looked like it seen better days, and the height of the box towered over her petite stature.

Sage glanced at the sign on the door before putting a hand on the handle. A warm hum tingled in the back of her mind, inviting her inside. 

She bit her lip again before taking a deep breath and pulled the handle open.

The door opened with a soft click and Sage hesitantly stepped inside. Sage was inundated with a soft, warm coral light and pleasant hum in her mind.

She fully stepped into the box and blinked, once, twice to see the huge interior. Her glasses fogged over, and usually she would be annoyed by that inconvenience but the sight before her only made her take then off for a cursory clean as she took in her surroundings.

“ _Wow_. This is _amazing,”_ she breathed, astounded by the vastness before her.

Standing in the doorway of what seemed to be an alien ship, she drank in the sight.

A large console stood before her, thousands of wires, buttons and levers encircled the middle of the room.

Sage walked closer to the console, not noticing the door close behind her with a soft click, and lightly touched the controls in awe. 

“How is this possible? This is insane,” she wondered. Sage rounded the console, staring up at the machinery in awe. A pained groan echoed the room, and she looked up in alarm.

“That sounded not-human, but there’s no one here. Wait, there’s no one here. Where’re all the pilots or whatever? They should be here, ushering me out or kidnapping me or something.” The groan got louder and seemed to be in agreement.

“What’s that hum? I heard it before, but I thought it was just the machine.” An indignant hum answered her question. 

She startled in alarm, “Where’s that coming from?” Sage spotted a soft, golden glow emanating from the console.

Going towards the glow, she stared transfixed at the beautiful light. The panel lifted itself up, and the glow brightened. Slowly, she reached out a hand, but she hesitated. What could it be? Why did it feel so warm and inviting? Why did she want to touch it, be hugged by it, be surrounded by it? The glow brightened even more, and her curiosity won out.

Touching the soft glow, the light stared into her eyes and Sage was assaulted with information. She stumbled back from the light, falling down by the assault of knowledge.

She held her head in pain, her glasses were askew and her clothes were rumpled. Sage panted in exertion, trying to make sense of her new array of information.

“TARDIS,” she breathed in awe.

“You're a TARDIS. But why'd you tell me? Why'd you go and- and- info-dump me?”

The TARDIS hummed in reply and Sage frowned at the pictures flashing through her mind. She frowned deeper when she realized that she _understood_ them.

“You need my help, you and the Doctor. Okay, but why?” 

The TARDIS hummed tiredly and more pictures flashed through her mind.

“His regeneration was that bad?” she questioned.

A hum of agreement answered her question.

“Right, okay. A sentient, alien spaceship just asked for my help to help another alien,” she spoke aloud. Sage wrapped her locket chain around a finger, tugging. She bit her bottom lip, mulling over what she should do. She could leave right now, she sincerely doubted the TARDIS would stop her against her will. But she could also stay... There was so much that she could discover, a whole new world, a whole new history.... Curiosity killed the cat, be damned. Satisfaction brought it back, anyway. “Will I regret this? Probably.” Sage unwrapped the chain from her finger and looked at the TARDIS ceiling.

"Take me to your leader,” she grinned, and the TARDIS hummed in exasperation before lighting a hallway up.

Sage stood up and righted herself, fixing her glasses and clothes, and followed the lights.

She wandered down the halls, playing an odd game of hot and cold until she reached a door that the TARDIS hummed warmly at, and Sage's heart pounded in anticipation.

“This one?” she asked to confirm. The ship hummed in answer.

Sage opened the door to a med-bay and on the bed laid the Doctor. 

His military uniform was rumpled and scattered on the ground. He was in his trousers and he was on his front. He was a mess, a giant, hot mess. Dirt and mud was scattered all over him, and sand was in places that she didn't want to find. 

She rushed toward him and could hear his erratic breathing, and her lips twisted in worry. Sage leaned over him, grabbing his wrist and feeling his weak pulse.

“What happened with his regeneration that he looks so bad?” she asked the ship.

The ship only gave a mournful reply, and there was only a brief pause before horrible images passed through her mind.

“Oh god,” she stumbled back, holding her forehead in pain. The dull pain was nothing as she looked at the Doctor with sorrow and tears in her eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Sage sniffed and wiped away her tears. “Ok,” she said, taking a deep breath, “Let's get you hooked up to a heart monitor, yeah? From there I'll figure it out.”

Her hands moved automatically, pushing him onto his back and hooking up wires and plugs almost absentmindedly.

When she finished, she blinked and looked down at her handiwork. “I have no idea how to use medical equipment. How in God's name did I do this?”

There was a soft hum and Sage looked up sharply at the TARDIS. Her eyes narrowed, “Did you make me do that?”

The TARDIS hummed in reply, and Sage felt a burst of indignation at being used as a puppet before her anger deflated when she realized that it was for the best.

Sage sighed, “Next time warn a gal, yeah?”

A hum of apology and promise answered her. 

“Right, what now? Any kind of meds I need to give ‘im?” she asked.

A negative hum, “Then what should I do?”

Another hum with a flash of a picture, “Watch over him? Alright, minute something goes wrong you'll take over, yeah?” 

A grateful hum answered her and Sage smiled, “I didn't tell you before, but you're beautiful.”

The TARDIS hummed her thanks and flashed more pictures, some of her and flowers of her namesake.

“Thanks for the compliment but I'm pretty plain. Anyway shouldn't you be resting? Your pilot's unconscious and all.”

A reluctant hum answered her, “You best rest then, old girl. Don't bother with me, I'll find something to bide my time.”

The TARDIS gave a quieter hum and a presence left her mind as the TARDIS shut down.

Sage was surprised that she didn't realize another presence was in her mind before shrugging, accepting the fact that she had just befriended a sentient spaceship.

Looking at the Doctor again, she smiled when she saw his breathing even out.

Studying the alien, Sage didn't notice any external differences. She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed at the fact that he looked exactly like any other human man.

Looking around, Sage spotted and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to the bedside alien.

“Hullo there, Doctor. My name's Sage. Seems your ship's kidnapped me to care for your well-being,” she chuckled. “Though for a kidnapper, she's very nice. You'd best get better soon, Doctor because I have no idea what I'm really doing.”

She sighed, slumping down in the chair. “What did I just get myself into?”

Sage grabbed her beanie and pulled it off, putting it in her lap before raking a hand through her hair.

“I'm gonna be here for some time, might as well get some stuff done,” she dropped her hand and sighed.

She looked to the side, spotting her fallen bookbag. She must've taken it off when the TARDIS took over.

Sage went and grabbed the bag, rummaging in it to pull out her binder of notes.

She started spreading her papers on the floor and laid on her stomach. Grabbing a red pen, she uncapped it and settled in to grade papers.

* * *

An incessant humming thrummed in Sage’s mind. 

Groggily Sage woke up and sat up. She looked around, disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings.

She blinked, trying to remember what happened last night.

_‘Walking home and thinking how kids are so stupid when I gave them the answers and they still get it wrong, humming and then- Oh!’_

Sage started as she remembered, ‘ _Aliens!’_

She looked at her watch, “Fuck, I'm late for school!” She rushed to get her papers in her bag before she remembered it was the weekend.

“Well, takes care of that at least,” she yawned.

Sage stretched her arms out, wincing at the cracks. “What d’ya want me to do since you woke me up at this ungodly hour on a weekend?”

A quiet hum and pictures answered her. Sage frowned, “You want me to make tea? How's tea gonna help him?”

Information streamed into her mind and she groaned in pain, “I have no idea what you just said to me. All I got is that it helps and science and that's good enough for me.”

She stood up and tilted her head up at the ceiling, “You feel good enough to help me find my way?”

A bright hum answered her and she smiled, “Let's go then, babe.”

She wandered the halls, chattering to the ship about weird anecdotes, her arms flailing as she spoke.

She was walking into the kitchen saying, “This is why I don't understand people. Why lie about feelings and the like if you both like each other? Why deny yourself the pleasure? It's better to have your heart broken, much as it pains me to say, than to not have loved at all.” she said up to the ceiling.

An understanding hum answered her as she popped the kettle on, “Thank you, least someone doesn't think I'm looney. All my peers and relatives always thought I was weird with all my opinions but now I know someone's on my side, albeit it's an alien spaceship.” 

Now an amused hum answered her and Sage smiled, “Is it sad to say that you're the best company I've ever had. More so than most people. Most times when I talk, they always say I talk too fast and can't understand and then when I try and say it again slower it doesn't work so it's always an endless cycle of frustration. You though, you understand me perfectly fine and I know you can't talk with words but it's great to have a conversation where someone understands me. I just keep quiet now, ‘cept when I'm teaching of course.”

She leaned back against the stove, “You know I should be really freaking out about this. I mean an alien spaceship pops up outta the middle of nowhere, dumps a shit ton of information and essentially tells me to save her pilot. I should be freaking out, why am I not freaking out?”

The TARDIS just gave a knowing hum in reply. Sage sighed, “Yeah I know, I'm weird.”

“Is that why you chose me or some bullshit? Cuz you know for a fact that'd he get better on his own, might’ve taken some time but you didn't need me,” she asked.

The TARDIS didn't reply and Sage groaned at the unhelpful response, “Yeah, that clears things up, not answering always helps the situation.”

The kettle screeched its shrill sound and Sage hurriedly switched it off, pouring the hot water into a mug to let the tea steep.

A few minutes later, she's walking back toward the Doctor with a warm mug of tea in hand.

She opened the door and carefully sidestepped her mess from last night. Snagging the chair with her free hand, she placed it next to the bed and sat down.

Sage looked at the mug in her hands and the alien laying on the bed next to her, “How the hell am I gonna get him to drink this?”

A hum answered her and she gave a short glare to the ship, “Oh now you answer me?” she grumbled.

A remote was dropped into her lap and she had to lift the mug up quickly so the remote didn't drop into it.

“Thanks, babe.” Pressing the button to elevate the bed, she pressed the mug to his lips when he reached the satisfactory height.

Tilting his head, she carefully helped him drink the tea. After a few sips, Sage pulled the mug away from his lips and set the mug on the floor next to her.

For a minute, she worried that the tea didn't do anything, but then she noticed how his pallor seemed healthier than before. 

Sage breathed a sigh of relief, “Sorry if the tea tasted bad, I've been living in England for a while now and I still haven't gotten the hang of making the tea taste great. I mean I've lived here for over ten years, that has to account for something! Yet my tea still tastes like shite! It's the oddest thing, I do everything you're supposed to, and yet it still tastes like I just put a leaf into hot water. I know that's what tea technically is but my hot leaf water tastes like the leaves from parks or something and I'm rambling.”

She sighed again, “I read somewhere that coma patients can sometimes hear what people are saying to them. I hope to god you have no idea what I'm saying, this is all rather embarrassing, and yeah. I dunno, this is more awkward than I anticipated.”

Sage stopped and pursed her lips in thought, “Alright, redo. My name's Sage Tran, I'm a history teacher and I was kidnapped by your ship to take care of you. For some reason, I went along with it. Dunno what that says about me really.”

She could've sworn that his lips twitched in amusement. Sage grinned, progress was progress. If he could quirk his lips, then he was getting better. If he was getting better, then she'd make fun of herself for the sake of his improvement.

So she launched into stories about her students and opinions on the most inane subjects. She was careful not to really talk about her past, not wanting to relieve any of that.

Sage talked for what felt like hours, but she could see him reacting to her little stories so she counted that as a win.

When her voice went hoarse, she stopped and looked up at the TARDIS, “Is there a shower anywhere, I'm still in my clothes from last night and I think they're crusting on me.”

The TARDIS hummed in amused agreement and she smiled, getting up, “Talk soon, Doc.”

She quickly showered and slipped on the pajamas the TARDIS gave her, feeling only slightly guilty at the thought of taking the clothes.

She squeezed as much of the water out of her hair before throwing the wet towel back onto the hanger and flipping her damp hair behind her.

Sage wandered out of the bathroom, only getting lost twice before reaching the kitchen.

She headed for the fridge, reaching in and pulling out ingredients before doing the same at the pantries.

Sage slipped into the familiar rhythm of chopping vegetables, humming an unknown song.

“I think your cooking makes up for your bad tea, judging by that smell.”

Sage shrieked in surprise, dropping her knife and cutting herself. She cursed colourfully in Vietnamese, sucking on her cut index finger.

Spinning around she pointed at the Doctor, who was leaning against the doorway, with her other hand, took out her uninjured finger and said, “What the hell? What'd you go and sneak up on me for?”

He put his hands up in surrender, (and Sage couldn't help but notice the dried flecks of blood, but she didn't comment) but didn't offer an apology asking instead, “Is it really sneaking when you're not trying?”

“If you manage to surprise the other person, then yes!” 

He smirked in amusement, “It's not my fault you were in your own little world. I was rather loud getting here.”

Sage frowned at the words and took the time to really look at the Doctor. He had changed into a maroon jumper, jeans, leather jacket and boots. He held himself stiffly and when she looked into his blue eyes for the first time, she saw the deep pain he tried to hide. Her eyes wandered back to his right hand, clenching her jaw and biting her tongue from asking. He seemed to notice, moving his hand behind his back, blue eyes squinting at her as if in challenge.

She didn't ask him about what happened, knowing he didn't want to talk about the war so instead she said, “Hand me that first aid kit.”

He looked bewildered at her request, “What first aid kit?”

She gestured vaguely with her uninjured hand, “The one by the left of you.” 

“What'd you need a first aid kit for?”

“Thanks to someone, I went and accidentally cut myself. Don't know about you, but I'd love to not get the thing infected.”

He rolled his eyes, but obliged, handing her the kit. She smiled sweetly up at him, “Thank you.”

Not waiting for a reply she opened the kit, making sure she didn't touch the cut with anything and plastered the band-aid on it. Satisfied, she closed the kit and started up cutting vegetables again. She would've offered it to him as well, but there was no telling how that would go down, considering that he just came back from _war._

“What're you making?”

“Stir-fry with noodles, only decent thing I can make with what little you have.” 

“Oi, don't knock my ship!” he said, offended.

“I'm not knocking the TARDIS. The TARDIS is amazing, I'm making fun of the fact that you don't seem to be able to buy any decent food,” she said.

He shrugged, “Don't really need to go shopping, anything I need TARDIS gets for me.”

“Alright, you gonna keep standing there or are you gonna help me? Cuz I'm tellin’ you right now, if you want any of this, you'll need to earn your keep,” she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

His lips quirked up in a small smile and he moved toward the kitchenette, following her instructions as she nattered on about random things.

“Grab the plates and things for me, the cupboards are too high and you're a giant,” she ordered when they were done.

“Yes, your majesty,” he replied sarcastically, moving to do as she asked.

“Damn right I'm royalty,” she shot back.

“Royal pain in the arse, more like,” she heard him mutter.

“You don't get to make that decision until we've known each other for at least a week,” Sage retorted, reaching for the plates he handed her.

The Doctor huffed a small laugh and she grinned as she spooned the food on the two plates, “Now take your food, I ain't gonna feed it to you,” shoving a plate of the stir-fry into his hands.

They sat down at the table and Sage practically shoveled the food down her mouth. The Doctor was slower in his eating, methodically picking up his food and chewing it.

It was a few moments into the dinner until Sage couldn't take the silence any longer, “Okay, important question to be answered.”

She paused when she noticed his shoulders tensed before barreling in, “What's your favourite colour?”

The Doctor coughed in surprise, “What?” 

“You heard me. What's your favourite colour?”

“Why's that such an important question?"

Sage threw him an annoyed look as she swallowed a mouthful of food, “It's always used to get to know each other. Those gods awful and annoying ‘let's all get to know each other questions’ besides ‘what's your name?’ or ‘what'd you like to do in your spare time?’. Thought we'd go start with that.”

“No questions about the ship you're in, just my favourite colour?”

Sage rolled her eyes, “If I wanted to know more about your ship, I'd ask her. The TARDIS will probably answer me better than you can anyway. So let me ask again, what's your favourite colour?”

“Burnt orange,” he answered, a barely noticeable tremor in his voice and she ignored the ache in her heart at the reminder of his loss.

Instead she only tilted her head in thought at his response, tapping the end of the chopsticks on her bottom lip, “Like the orange from sunsets, yeah? That's a pretty colour to like. Sunsets are beautiful, I'm surprised though. With the colour of the TARDIS, I'd’ve thought that your favourite colour was blue.”

The Doctor didn't respond, and she looked over to see him lost in thought. She wasn't stupid, no matter what people said, she heard the slight tremor in his voice when he answered. 

So she did what she could did when the air turned awkward, she rambled. She was never much of a talker, but if it made the look in the Doctor's eyes to come back to normal, then she'd talk until she turned blue in the face. “There was this kid way back when that I knew, he always wore this obnoxious shade of orange. You know the one, the bright, neon orange that blinds your eyes. Everyday he'd find a way to incorporate the colour into his wardrobe and that turned me off of any neon colours for life. Honestly you like orange, that's great, but does it have to be _that_ orange?”

Her turn of conversation did the trick, the Doctor's shoulders were less tense and the sadness in his blue eyes were lighter than before. Sage sighed internally in relief at her success.

“You humans are rather odd, it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't choose to deliberately wear that colour to annoy you,” he replied.

Sage squawked in offense, flailing her arms, barely managing to keep her chopsticks in hand, “What'd you mean he did it to annoy me? I'll have you know that I am a lovable person that everyone enjoys being around.”

He snorted, a small, wry smile playing on his lips, and oh if that didn't make her heart stutter, “Oh yes of course, and I'm sure that you didn't complain, loudly I might add, about the shirt.” 

“Well- I- but- you-” she sputtered, still in shock with the smile and how attracted she was to him. Now wasn't the time, Sage, she chided. Turning back to her food, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

The Doctor only smirked in answer, picking up his fork (ugh forks) and stabbing his food.

Sage finished her food with a small scowl, (it was not a pout!) stood up and threw the plate down into the sink with a loud clatter in her anger. She flinched at the noise and spun around to check on the Doctor, muttering quiet curses to herself.

His shoulders were tensed again and she could hear his breathing start to become erratic. The Doctor seemed to be barely able to hold himself together, his knuckles were white from gripping the fork. He was still methodically stabbing his food and putting it into his mouth, but it seemed to be more habit than anything. 

Sage cursed at her stupidity, he had just gotten out of a warzone, is the last surviving member of his species and made one of the hardest decisions in his life. Loud noises would obviously set him off and even though the plate clatter wasn't anything like a gunshot, it could still trigger a panic attack.

She rushed over to the Doctor, and gently pried his fingers out of his iron tight grip, and instead let him grab her hand. She tried not to wince as his ironclad grip made her lose all feeling in her right hand. Instead, Sage tried to remember what her therapist said when she would get into a panic attack, “Hey, hey,” she said gently.

“Listen to me, you’re not there anymore. You’re safe, you’re away. C’mon now, listen to my voice, follow my voice,” she said coaxingly. He reacted marginally, shoulders relaxing minutely, but his breathing was still uneven.

Sage bit her lip, this wasn’t working. What were those breathing exercises?

“Doctor, c'mon now, look at me, look at me,” using her free hand to turn his face towards her. 

He was sat stiffly, shoulders still tense and eyes lost in a horrific nightmare only he could see. 

“Doctor, breathe in for four seconds with me, c'mon now, just four seconds.” She waited until he did what she asked.

“You're doing great, c'mon out for seven.” He shakily breathed out and she smiled softly.

“You're doing amazing, again in four out seven.” Sage repeated the placating words, hating that she couldn't do anything else to help.

The Doctor followed her words, and she saw him slowly losing the stiffness in his shoulders. Sage breathed a small sigh of relief.

She looked at the Doctor's face, glad to see his eyes lose the cloudy daze in his eyes. When his eyes were the clear, bright blue, she smiled gently at him.

“Better?”

He nodded curtly, his grip on her hand unrelenting. Sage bit her lip, hesitating. 

“I've had panic attacks too, ya know,” she started. “It's not a bad thing to have well, it sort of is and, wait, off topic. Anyway this one time, I was watching some kind of show, god I don't even remember what about, and this guy threw a bottle of wine at the wall, shattering glass everywhere. I immediately shut down and started to have a panic attack.”

Sage blew out a breath, “It was something so insignificant, but it just made me shut down, didn't come out of it for a solid five minutes or so and yeah,” she ended pathetically.

The Doctor's grip on her hand had loosened to a grounding hold. She chanced a look at the Doctor and was struck by the intense look in his eyes as he stared at her.

Sage felt awkward holding his gaze and coughed, dropping her eyes on their linked hands. They sat in silence, their breathing and the TARDIS’s warm hum were the only noise in the kitchen.

The silence was broken by the Doctor's gruff voice, “Thank you.”

Sage smiled warmly, “You're welcome. Are you gonna finish that or should I bin it? Think carefully of your next answer.”

The Doctor huffed a ghost of a laugh, “I'll finish it,” he reassured.

Sage beamed, “Great, now I'm gonna go and try and sleep with slightly damp hair. You gonna be okay on your own?”

The Doctor faked a smile, “Of course, I'll be fine.”

She hid her worried face with a grin and waited for the Doctor to release her hand. When a moment passed and the Doctor didn't remove his hand, she quirked an eyebrow.

“You know, for me to go to sleep, you'll need to let go of my hand,” she said with a teasing grin. Acting normal. If she touched the awkwardness, she'd die at the confrontation. Not to mention, she had no idea how the Doctor would react, since they literally _just_ met each other.

The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise as he glanced down at their interlocked hands. He quickly snatched his hand away as if he had been burned and looked away.

Sage ignored the ache at the loss and touch and forced out a giggle, “Thanks for letting me go.”

She brought her hand back to her side, hand throbbing in pain. “Finish your food, I spent a lot of time making that and I expect that to be eaten, all of it. I'll know if you don't,” she said pointedly.

The Doctor avoided her gaze and gave a slight nod. Sage internally sighed, and they were making such progress.

She stepped away from the Doctor offering a simple, “Goodnight” before exiting the kitchen.

She followed the TARDIS’s hums and reached a door. Opening it she found a room similar to a hotel room and she strode in. Falling down face first on the bed, she closed her eyes and patiently waited to fall to sleep, forgetting to close the door behind her.

* * *

The Doctor sat there in silence. He sat there until he couldn’t hear the pitter patter of Sage’s feet echo the hallway.

He didn’t know what overcame him, what caused him to go into a panic attack. The plate’s clatter had triggered something in his mind, and then he was back in Arcadia. Screams of pain and the Daleks echoed within his mind. 

The acrid stench of fire and sulfur burned his nose. Blasts of fallen buildings and bombs rang in his ears. He was stuck in a haze as he watched the fall of his capital city, stuck inside his body, helpless to do anything as he watched his people burn.

The Doctor didn’t know how long he stayed watching over and over the horrifying sight. He was deaf to the real world, until a soft voice penetrated the cries of anguish. The voice confused him, how could he not be there anymore? 

The battle was happening quite clearly in front of him, but for some reason he listened to the voice. The voice was nice, soft with a hint of sweetness He listened to its placating words and reassuring tone. 

He didn’t even realize his respiratory bypass had kicked in until the voice said to breathe. He followed the voice’s instructions, pushing the battle raging in front of him away and followed the voice. 

The Doctor had no idea why he listened to the voice, he had to fight, do something against the Daleks, but he stopped and listened to the voice, followed it.

There was something about the voice, its saccharine tone or maybe its understanding words, that made him want to obey the voice. 

He breathed in, then out, in and out, and repeated it until his focus cleared and fixated on the person in front of him.

Sage Tran, that’s right. He wasn’t in Arcadia anymore, he couldn’t be, Arcadia fell, and Gallifrey burned. 

The Doctor stared intently at Sage’s eyes, they were a dark brown, resembling dark chocolate. Her eyes were warm and filled with understanding and not the pity he was expecting. She had a small smile on her face, corner of her mouth lifted up.

He stared at her, not saying anything and Sage had bit her lip. The Doctor wasn’t sure what she was about to do until he heard her break down one of her walls and admit she had panic attacks as well, in that ramble like style of hers, and he loosened his grip on her hand.

For what felt like hours, he didn’t respond. He just stared at her intently and when she caught his gaze, averted her eyes.

They stayed in silence before he thanked her and was awarded with her bright smile.

She asked if he would continue eating and he placated her with an agreement.

In truth, his stomach churned at the thought of eating more, and when she left he stood up and dumped the remaining food into the trash. He flexed his hand, the slight sting from punching the mirror coming back with a dull throb. The blood was crusting over his skin, and he'd be a fool to not clean it.

Well, he always was an idiot.

He washed the utensils, noticing how Sage also left her dirty dishes in the sink. She must not like washing them, and he rolled his eyes. Forcing all thoughts of Gallifrey out of his mind, he cleaned the dishes, the mundane task bringing him slowly back to normality. The water washed away most of the crusted blood, and he didn't regret it, punching that mirror. He didn't want to see that face again.

The Doctor trekked out of the kitchen and through familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings towards the console room.

He went to the monitor, typing in short instructions, the wound a constant reminder, something that made him present in the moment. A quiet ding and the Doctor reached out to grab the sonic that appeared. The sonic was slender, simple, and completely suited his new, spartan tastes. 

He flicked the button on and off, the familiar whirring sound brought a small smile on his lips. The blue light was new, but he found that the colour was better than the red he had before. 

The Doctor pulled up a grating from underneath the console and slid under. He flicked his sonic on again and started the tedious work of fixing the TARDIS. He started the work, if only to give his hands something to do and let his mind wander.

Why did the TARDIS let this human on? Why not just let him heal on his own? The TARDIS knew perfectly well that he didn’t need anyone looking after him.

“Ow!” he cried, sucking on his burnt finger. He let go of his finger and glared at the wiring. “What’d you go an’ do that for, you ungrateful ship?”

The TARDIS hummed indignantly, telling him she disagreed with his last statement. “What? I don’t need anybody lookin’ after me, ‘specially not a little human ape.”

She sparked in disagreement, and reminded him about how Sage _did_ help him when he had that panic attack. 

“Right, she helped with one thing and suddenly she's my babysitter,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The TARDIS hummed in agreement, and the Doctor narrowed his eyes. 

“She's not my babysitter,” he said firmly.

The TARDIS hummed with no answer and shocked him again when he tried to fix another wire.

“Bloody hell, fine. See if I fix you anymore,” he cried and slid out from the panel. The TARDIS gave a warning hum before telling him to look at the monitor.

“Touchy, touchy,” but he relented, stood up and looked at the monitor. There was a reading of a massive transmitter in the middle of London. 

“What? That can’t be right. Show me where the transmitter is,” he said as he typed commands into the keyboard.

“Henrick’s, and where's that?” he groaned, “Of course, because I'm never done with savin’ that lot am I?”

The Doctor shook his head and began typing in coordinates, rushing around to start the materialization process.

He pulled the lever and the familiar wheezing brought a smile to his lips as he rushed towards the door.

He started to pull open the door when he pulled back from a shock, “What was that for?” He asked indignantly up at the ship.

The TARDIS hummed in warning, showing him a picture of Sage still asleep in her room.

“Well, what'd you want me to do? You know those apes, wasting half o’ their lives sleeping.”

The TARDIS hummed in exasperation and only showed him the picture of Sage again.

“Fine, fine,” he relented, “But if she's not out in time I'm leavin’ without her.”

The TARDIS hummed in affirmation, eagerly shifting hallways to help reach Sage’s door.

“Why're you so eager with this one? She's just a little ape, emphasis on the little part. It's not like she'll impact my future or anythin’. ‘Sides she has to go back an’ teach soon anyway.” he said nonchalantly, ignoring the pang in his heart as he said the last words.

The TARDIS only hummed knowingly, not bothering to reply. The Doctor huffed annoyed.

“What? Is she important to me or something?”

The TARDIS didn't reply and the Doctor rolled his eyes as an open door came into view.

He walked toward the door and knocked, looking in to see the sparse hotel like room.

The bed sheets were rumpled and her glasses were strewn over the table side.

The bathroom sink was running at full power and the door was thrown wide open.

“Sage?” he called out hesitantly.

There was no answer, and the Doctor ventured a few steps closer to the bathroom door.

He leant against the doorway when he saw Sage leaning over the sink.

He could hear her incoherent mutterings as he watched her in concern. 

She was bent over the porcelain sink, hands gripping the sink tightly. Her knuckles turning white from her grip.

“Sage?” he said louder.

The Doctor watched as her back visibly tensed, knuckles even whiter, before she straightened up, turning around to face him.

She ran a hand through her hair and smiled up at him with squinting eyes. If he hadn't found her hunched over the sink, he would've believed the smile himself.

“What's up, Doc?” she giggled but the Doctor wasn't an idiot as much as he played it up that he was. He could almost hear her forcing herself to smile and laugh.

But she didn't want to talk about it, and it was too early in their relationship right now to talk personally.

Relationship? Is that what this was? Well not the romantic one obviously, but the platonic friend one. He didn't know and he didn't like this new change in his life.

Usually his companions were the ones to listen to him, the ones he takes care of and grew to care deeply for. _He_ takes care of them, occasionally they care for him as well, but he was the one with a plan.

His human companions were his company when the Time Lords were being, well stuffy gits. They brought a new sense of wonder to his adventures and that's why he loved them. 

The Doctor loved them all equally and differently than each other. Their personalities and spunk gave him a new perspective during his adventures, it was why he usually bring human companions.

But he didn't deserve them, not anymore, not after what he did. And even if his curiosity was screaming at him about Sage, he ignored it.

“There's a small transmitter in London that's not human. I'd thought,” the TARDIS interrupted and he amended his statement with a small roll of his eyes, “ _The TARDIS thought_ you'd like to come with and find out what it is.”

Sage looked at him thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side, “Yeah, why not? Sounds like fun, gimme ten to change and I'll meet you by the doors.”

He nodded curtly, resigning himself to wait half an hour and made his way towards the console room.

Ten minutes later, Sage walked out in jeans, an oversized pullover hoodie and a TARDIS blue beanie, hands stuffed in her front pocket.

The Doctor stared at her in surprise when she came out exactly ten minutes later and she stared back, fidgeting slightly.

“Exploring? Unknown transmitter from possible extraterrestrial lands? This ringing any bells?” she asked nervously.

The Doctor snapped out of his thoughts, “Right, right, yes! C’mon then let's go,” and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together (he pretended not to notice her flinch when he came at her, only slowing his approach so that she could see what he planned to do, pretending again that the warmth from her hand didn't send tingles down his spine), dragging her off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also posted on my fanficiton.net account, foreverlittlered, so this is not someone else uploading, lol. I just got so fed up with barely getting any reviews there that I wanted to compare and see if people would review more here. 
> 
> There are 26 chapters already posted on ffn, and I will most likely be posting one a day until we're caught up. This fanfiction will be edited again though, so take the ffn one as the raw work, so there might be new details added to each chapter. 
> 
> I am so sorry for the amount of tags on here, I just wanted to cover my bases now and in the future, so sorry.  
> Please leave some reviews, I am already getting unmotivated on FFN and this story has been my baby for 3 years, I don't want to kill her. Also the amount of time I spent on Nine is abysmal, so I will probably be adding more Nine content on here too that I might not add on the ffn one. You can have a little more Nine, if you review.
> 
> Also happy 15th anniversary of the DW reboot!!!
> 
> So sorry for the long end note. Thank you so much reading, please leave a comment on what you like and dislike and I will see *you* in the next chapter!!!


	2. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures were always fun.... right?

Sleep has always been an adversary that Sage had never conquered. The actual getting to sleep part, not the sleeping itself. Sage had never been able to fall asleep easily, always taking two or more hours to fall into a restless sleep. It had been a problem ever since she could remember, and it always made her hate the morning when she'd only had four hours of deep sleep.

She had tried meds to help her, but the feeling they gave her always made her want to vomit, leaving her only able to dry heave. And she never really liked to rely on medicine, call her old fashioned... or an idiot, and maybe it had to do with the way she grew up, but she was never comfortable relying on outside help. Relying on others... never made her feel good. 

It wasn't healthy, far from actually, and she knew she'd regret this sooner or later, but it worked. 

Her body was used to the on and off sleep schedule. So when she woke up an hour later, shaking, she figured it'd happen sooner or later.

But Sage had slept soundly during her grading period and was then forced to help the Doctor and everything. Her body did _not_ like the tasks she forced herself through and protested with nightmares.

Sage has always had dreams, they had tapered off when she got older. But when she did had them, they were nasty, violent ones. She almost always had them when she was younger, less violent but still just as terrifying. She was left frozen, unable to move, people yelling at her, degrading her, hating her. And Sage was stuck there, unable to defend herself, to say anything on her behalf, to even try to do anything. Her sister.... running into the street, Sage only barely noticing at the last moment. Sage running, but she was sinking, sinking, and sinking deeper, further and further away from Izzie.... Her little sister....

The memories of waking up terrified always stayed with her through her life until now. The feeling and mood of the dream always stuck with her and she'd jump straight into the shower afterwards, not liking the grime and dirt she always felt after a night terror. Her sister's terrified face, Sage's arm just out of reach... the feeling of helplessness.... She never liked remembering, made her feel weak.

It was a given when after she left the Doctor that she'd have a nightmare. She resigned herself to that fate so when she shot up an hour later shaking, she just ran to the bathroom.

Slipping off her borrowed pajamas, Sage stepped into the shower, adjusting the water temp to nearly scalding. She scrubbed her body, wanting to rid herself of the grime she always felt after a nightmare. Her body was scrubbed pink by the end of the shower and the steam inundated the room.

Sage slipped on a new pair of pajamas the TARDIS gave her and stood by the sink, leaning over it. She gripped the sides of the porcelain sink, hunched over and breathing deeply. She stared at the sink, not really seeing it and tuning everything else out. She didn't even hear the stomping of the Doctor's boots.

“Sage?” The Doctor called out.

She tensed at his voice, not wanting to be disturbed when she just had a nightmare. But this is the Doctor, someone she tentatively trusted, so she had to fake it til she made it. Straightening, Sage mustered the best smile she had and turned around, “What's up, Doc?” throwing in a giggle for emphasis. Internally, she nearly vomited at that action, knowing that her face was probably screwed up in a grimace.

He stared at her with concern before saying, “There's a small transmitter in London that's not human. I'd thought-” 

The TARDIS interrupted with an indignant hum, and the Doctor rolled his eyes, “The _TARDIS_ thought you'd like to come with and find out what it is.”

Sage tilted her head and looked up at him, squinting when she realized she couldn't clearly see his face.

Did she want to go? She had papers to grade and students to teach, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sage would never get this chance to have an adventure with the Doctor again. The memory of Izzie, the feeling of helplessness crept into her soul. She needed to shake it off, to have something else to focus on. This would work.

She bit her lip, one adventure maybe two and then back to her boring life. As much as she'd rather not leave the Doctor by himself, she'd also rather not impose any longer. “Yeah, why not? Sounds like fun, gimme ten to change and I'll meet you by the doors.”

The Doctor nodded curtly and left. When Sage heard his thumping boots retreat, she slipped out of the bathroom.

Heading to the drawers, Sage grabbed the first shirt and pair of jeans she found, trying not to be surprised when they fit her perfectly. She turned around and on the bed were a dark blue hoodie and beanie that she tugged on as well. Snagging her glasses and shoving them on, she blinked as the world cleared. Sage shoved a pair of socks and blue converse on and walked out, easily reaching the console room a minute later.

After tying her hair in a ponytail, Sage stuffed her hands in her front pocket and walked up to the Doctor. He was standing by the door, staring at her in slight surprise. Sage fidgeted under the stare, playing with her fingers inside her pocket.

“Exploring? Unknown transmitter from possible extraterrestrial lands? This ringing any bells?” she asked nervously.

The Doctor snapped out of his thoughts and reached out to grab her wrist. Sage startled at the sudden move, flinching back at the unbidden memory that came back, the tall, overbearing man taking on another's face that she had tried to overcome before.... It was only a matter of seconds, but Sage got a hold of herself, trying to bring herself back to the present. She was with the Doctor, not _him_ , before allowing the Doctor to drag her out the doors.

They ran, well _Sage_ ran, the Doctor strode out into the familiar streets of London. They reached the back alley of a shop.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic, the light flickering on and its whirring sound unlocked the back door.

The Doctor strode into the shop, Sage close on his heels, and made his way up the stairs, occasionally looking at his sonic to make sure they were going the right way. He pushed open the door to the roof, his sonic quietly whirring and leading the way to a large machine in the middle of the roof. “Bingo!” the Doctor cried in joy. “Oh! It's a relay device, haven't seen one o’ those here in ages!”

Sage walked around the machine, eyeing it with a contemplative look. “So why's it here's the question. What's it relaying?”

“That's just the question innit?” The Doctor said, still scanning the machine. He kneeled next to it, lifting up a panel. 

Wires and little lights were glowing when Sage walked over to peer down at it over the Doctor’s shoulder. “Yeah, s’why I asked it,” Sage replied, holding out her hand when prompted. The Doctor dumped ripped out wires into her hand and continued sonicing the device.

“It's hooked up to thought control, but where would the transmitter be?” The Doctor muttered and growled in frustration when his questions went unanswered.

“Well, what's the transmitter look like?” 

“Oh a big, round thing,” the Doctor replied distracted.

Sage hummed in thought, watching the man work beside her before her eyes wandered, mind whirring in thought. She looked around, spotting the London Eye and lit up in realization. 

“Doctor, I think I know-”

“Not important, I tweaked the relay device a bit and with this,” he held up a large electronic piece up. Sage looked bewildered and was distracted from her thought, wondering instead how the Doctor set that up in a few minutes. 

“I'm gonna blow up the shop!” he exclaimed happily, staring up at her.

“Um, okay, but what about the people still in the shop? Why don't we go an’ get them out or why don't you scan to see if there are any still?” Sage asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It's late, shop's already closed. Doubt there's anyone still there,” he answered easily.

Sage only stared at him, unimpressed. The Doctor huffed and relented, flicking his sonic on, “Fine.”

“Well?” Sage asked, “Anyone?

The Doctor didn't respond, swiftly standing up and sweeping pass her, detonator in hand and embarrassment palpable.

“Don't worry Doctor, I probably won't hold this against you,” she called after him. " _Probably_!"

He was several strides ahead of her, and she had to jog to catch up to him. “I'm gonna go back to the TARDIS, seems like you have this handled. Don't scare the humans away,” she said with a huff. She was answered with a slight nod, and she rolled her eyes. Sage patted his arm and bounced down the stairs towards the exit.

Sage walked out the back of the shop, pausing to throw away the wires still in hand in a bin behind the shop. She walked back toward where she remembered the TARDIS to be, relieved that she was right.

“Hello dearie,” she said, lightly caressing the door handle.

“Mind letting me in? The Doctor’s taking care of some humans right now, he'll be back sooner or later, but I'd like to get outta the cold now.” The TARDIS’s lock clicked open and the door swung backwards. “Thanks dearest,” she said with a soft smile.

Sage walked in with a small smile, dashing toward the jump seat and slumping down with an exhausted sigh. She propped her legs up onto the console, her ankles just barely hooking on. Sage took off her glasses, hooking them onto her sweater, and closed her eyes, reaching up to tug her beanie over her eyes.

Sage was tired, mentally, physically, emotionally. Her nightmare was worse than she'd ever had before, her shoulders and hands shaking in fear.

She could remember the distorted and mocking voices, the dark and enclosed space trapping her. Derogatory comments and pain, _him,_ god the pain. And Izzie.... _Oh, Izzie_.... Then she woke up, running to the bathroom.

It left her breathless and on the verge of a panic attack. This was the first time she could ever remember a nightmare, and she didn't like it. Sage sighed, pushing her beanie up and sat up. She thought that when the Doctor was better, she'd be back to her regular mundane schedule. 

Then the Doctor had offered a small adventure, and she jumped onto it, wanting to run away from her nightmare. 

She was a coward that way she supposed, same as the Doctor, running away from her problems. The TARDIS told her enough for her to gather information about the Doctor.

He was a good man, even if he didn't believe it. She'll have to work on that with him.

Sage blinked, she'd known him for near three days and she's already planning to stay with him? Let alone help him with his issues?

Sage couldn't answer her own questions when the Doctor burst in, immediately flipping levers and pressing buttons. She kept quiet, watching the Doctor work on the console. He was muttering to himself and smiling slightly, and Sage was curious about who he met to have caused that reaction.

The Doctor pulled the dematerialization lever and the familiar wheezing spurred on. He walked out again, checking his sonic and continued to ignore Sage. Sage sat there passively, content to not be included when she was so exhausted.

Sage leaned back and closed her eyes again, falling into a dreamlike daze. The Doctor came back moments later with loud, thundering steps as he dashed around the console. Sage didn't pay any mind to his doings, sitting there dozing off. He ran out again and Sage fell into a light slumber. This time Sage was jolted awake by the Doctor and someone else’s conversation.

“The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through that door, and believe me, they've tried. Now, shut up a minute.”

The Doctor bustled around the console, hooking wires up, and Sage sat up, tiredness forgotten as she watched. There's someone standing by the doors, but Sage couldn't see with the console blocking the way. “You see, the arm is too simple, but the head's perfect. I can use it to trace the signal back to the original source. Right,” the Doctor continues, ignoring or missing the fact that the other was hyperventilating. 

“Where do you want to start?” he asked, and Sage presumed he turned around to look at her. Sage stood up and walked around the console, out of sight but with a full view of the other two, taking advantage of her short stature.

From there she can see the Doctor and another young girl. Eighteen at least, twenty at the most, must've barely finished her A-levels. 

“Um, the inside’s bigger than the outside?” The blonde replied in lieu of another response.

Sage rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips, but turned sharply when there was a small bubbling sound. The head of a young man was melting on the console.

“Melt? Oh, no, no, no, no, no. No!” the Doctor started frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers.

“What're you doing?!” the girl exclaimed.

“Reviving the signal,” the Doctor muttered, “it's fading! Wait I've got it….” He looked at the screen. 

“No, No, No, No, No, No, NO!” The TARDIS shook as the engines moved. “Almost there! Almost there! Here we go!”

Sage clung onto the console, making note to reprimand the Doctor for mistreating the TARDIS like that. The Doctor rushed out, the girl following and Sage groaned before running to them. “I lost the signal, I got so close,” the Doctor cried in annoyance, walking forward and banging his sonic. 

“We've moved! Does it fly?” Rose asked in amazement.

“Disappears there, reappears here, you wouldn't understand.”

“Don't belittle her, Doctor,” Sage reprimanded, delighting in the fact that she made them both jump. “It takes itself apart molecule by molecule, rebuilding itself somewhere else, if you want the simplified version” Sage explained.

The Doctor huffed, "Layman's terms, idiots." Sage glared at the Doctor's muttered words, and he said louder, “When'd you come out of your catnap?”

Sage smiled up at him, “Actually I've been here since the two of you came into the TARDIS, not my fault you're unobservant as a rock.”

The Doctor had a retort ready on his lips but the girl interrupted, “But if we're somewhere else, what about that headless thing? It's still on the loose. An’ who’re you?”

“Right, sorry. Sage, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and interrupted, “And she's Rose Tyler, there. Introductions, done? And it melted with the head, are you going to witter on all night?”

“I'll have to tell his mother….” Rose realized, letting out a small, breathless sob. The Doctor looked at her questioningly. “Mickey!” she cried annoyed. “I'll have to tell his mother he's dead, and you just went and forgot him, again!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, unconcerned. Sage looked apologetic at Rose and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort before releasing it.

Rose shook her head, “You were right, you _are_ alien.” She turned to walk away. 

Sage looked at the Doctor disapproving, jutting her chin out at Rose. The Doctor sighed, “Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey…”

Rose turned around, jaw set in a glare, “Yeah, he's not a kid.”

The Doctor continued, ignoring Rose’s glare, “It's because I'm trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering on top of this planet, alright?”

Rose cried out in disbelief, “Alright!?”

Sage shook her head and muttered, “Not what I meant, Doctor Oblivious.”

The Doctor replied, “Yes! It is!” Rose only shook her head disbelievingly, and took a calming breath. 

“If you _are_ an alien, then how come you sound like you're from the North?” she asked instead and Sage was reeling from the sudden change in topic. 

The Doctor replied defensively, “Lots of planets have a North.” He folded his arms indignantly and looked away. Sage let out a small giggle, and the Doctor looked down at her, mocking a hurt face.

“What's a police public call box?”

“It's a telephone box from the 1950s.” The Doctor said, grinning. He patted the TARDIS fondly. “It's a disguise.”

Sage smiled and shook her head, “Not a very good one considering how out of place and time it is, but it's unique. And humans suck at recognizing anything out of the obvious, so kudos.”

“Okay,” Rose began, smiling at the Doctor. “And this living plastic, what's it got against us?”

“Nothing, it loves you. You've got such a good planet. Lots of smoke and oil, plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air... perfect. Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs. Its food stock was destroyed in the war, all its protein plants rotted, so Earth... dinner!”

“The poor things,” Sage said with pity in her eyes. The Doctor gave her a sharp look, blue eyes full of questions, but he looked away from that pitying gaze.

“Any way of stopping it?” Rose asked. 

“Any way of helping them and getting them somewhere they'll have food and the like?” Sage asked, eyes still sad.

Grinning at Sage, the Doctor produced a tube of blue liquid from his jacket. Sage looked curiously at the vial, tilting her head in thought.

“Anti-plastic!” he said proudly. 

“Anti-plastic…” Rose said disbelievingly. 

“Anti-plastic!” he repeated. “But first I've got to find it. How can you hide something that big in a city this small?”

“Hold on... hide what?”

“The transmitter. The Consciousness is controlling every single piece of plastic so it needs a transmitter to boost the signal.” The Doctor explained, annoyed.

“What's it look like?”

“Like a transmitter.”

“How helpful,” Sage muttered. 

“Round and massive, slap bang in the middle of London.” the Doctor continued not having heard Sage. He paced around, agitated, looking around for a clue. “A huge circular metal structure, like a dish….”

Sage rolled her eyes, “This might be where I come in. Doctor look behind you.”

Behind him, the London Eye loomed 450 feet above them, but he didn't seem to notice.

“What?” Rose nodded towards the Eye, immediately understanding what Sage was saying. The Doctor turned around, then back to the two, completely nonplussed. 

“What?” Rose shakes her head, looking at the Eye still. He turned back around but still failed to make the connection.

“What is it? What?” Rose simply continued on staring at it. Sage stared at him, “C’mon Doctor Oblivious. What big, round thing is famous in London?”

The Doctor spun around and Sage could practically it click. “Oh... fantastic!” He grinned inanely and ran off, grabbing Sage and Rose's hands.

The three ran across London Bridge toward the Eye, coming to a halt at the foot of the Eye. 

“Think of it. Plastic, all over the world. Every artificial thing waiting to come alive. The shop window dummies, the phones, the wires, the cables,” the Doctor said.

“The breast implants,” Rose added jokingly.

Sage rolled her eyes at the response, jaw clenching. There was an alien invasion and she focused on that? _This_ was her replacement? She knew she was being unfair, but she was slightly jealous of all the attention Rose was getting from the Doctor. She was big enough to admit that, but she'll keep her mouth shut like she was taught, like a good girl and stay quiet.

Sage tuned out the rest of the conversation walking over to the wall, leaning over and seeing a manhole, glowing an ominous red.

She grinned, glancing back at the still conversing two behind her before making her lay down. Sage struggled with the manhole for a few minutes before finally prying it open. Red light and smoke streamed out of the manhole. “Well if that's not fucking mood lighting,” Sage muttered darkly.

Sage climbed down the manhole, turning around to see a hall filled with doors. “Well, shit. Um, eenie, meenie, minie, moe.” She pointed at the nearest door with red lights filtering from underneath. 

She pulled open the door as quietly as could with a metal door. Quietly, she tiptoed into the chambers. In the center was a huge, orange, wobbling mass in the middle of the chamber. “Holy shit, that's the alien invasion? A conscious vat of alien goo?” Sage whispered to herself.

Sage walked further in, and spotted a young man cowering by a wall. She quickly made her way to him, careful not to have made any loud noises to alert the vat of goo. She kneeled next to him, who couldn't be more than in his early twenties and grabbed his hands. He freaked out, letting out a small scream of surprise.

“Hey, hey, shh. I'm gonna help you, yeah? I've got some friends who's gonna stop these aliens and then we're gonna get you back home okay?” she said soothingly.

The young man nodded, still hyperventilating but his breaths were evening out.

“Great, I'm Sage. You're Mickey, right?” Sage let go of his hands and vaguely remembered Rose shouting something about her boyfriend, Mickey. She figured this had to be him.

The newly introduced Mickey nodded his head, “That thing down there's an alien! It kidnapped me!” he cried.

Sage winced, “Yeah, surprised me too when I found out.”

Mickey opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the Doctor, “I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract. According to convention 15 of the Shadow Proclamation.”

Sage turned toward the Doctor's voice, smiling at him being livelier than before.

The goo monster flopped around a bit. As the two watched, Mickey asked, “Is that your friend?”

Sage smiled widely, “Yeah his name's the Doctor.” At that Mickey stated at her bewildered, and she rolled her eyes. “It's a self-appointed name, doesn't want to use his real name, can't really, goes against his culture. He chose the Doctor to go by instead.” She explained and Mickey nodded in understanding.

The two fell silent and watched as the Doctor continued, “Thank you. That I might have permission to approach?” 

“Oh, my God! Mickey!” someone cried and they turned their heads to see Rose running toward them. “It's okay! It's alright!” She squat down on the other side of Mickey. 

“That thing down there, the liquid, Rose, it can talk!” Mickey pointed at the tub, but calmer than the half screams he shouted at Sage before.

“You're stinking!” Rose said in reply. “Doctor,” she cried toward the man, “They kept him alive!”

“Yeah, that was always a possibility.” The Doctor called back. “Keep him alive to maintain the copy.”

“You knew that and you never said?” she asked indignantly. Sage winced, she'd be right cross if that'd happened to her significant other as well.

“Can we keep the domestics outside, thank you?” The Doctor asked, annoyed and Sage could practically see him rolling his eyes. 

Rose helped Mickey to his feet, and Sage stood up next to them just as silently. Sage wondered why Rose was ignoring her. What could she have possibly done in the short time they've known each other that offended her so much? Or maybe she was overthinking things again? She did do that a lot.

The Doctor approached the Consciousness, “Am I addressing the Consciousness? Thank you. If I might observe, you infiltrated this civilization by means of warped, shunt technology. So, may I suggest, with the greatest respect, that you shunt off?”

“Well, that's fucking rude.” Sage muttered under her breath. The plastic seemed to agree as it blubbered in a negative manner. “I wouldn't take that suggestion if I was asked in that manner too.”

Rose and Mickey stared at her in disbelief and Sage shrugged shamelessly. “I wouldn't, not if I was asked that rudely.”

“Oh don't give me that, it's an invasion!” the Doctor said. “Plain and simple! Don't talk about constitutional rights!” The plastic reared its head(?) angrily. 

Sage bit her lip in anxiety, as the Doctor continued angrily, “I. Am. Talking! This planet is just starting. These stupid little people have only just learnt how to walk, but they're capable of so much more. I'm asking you on their behalf - please, just go.”

Sage smiled at the Doctor’s fierce defense for humans. Then she saw two Autons approach the Doctor from behind. 

It seemed Rose did too as she cried in warning, “Doctor!” The warning came too late as the Autons grabbed him. One of them took the anti-plastic out of the Doctor's jacket pocket. 

“That was just insurance!” the Doctor pleaded desperately, “I wasn't going to _use_ it.” The plastic growled angrily. 

“I was not attacking you. I'm here to help. I'm not your enemy. I swear, I'm not,” Sage bit back a helpless cry as she watched the Doctor try and barter his way out of this messy situation. 

“What do you mean?” Doors above him opened to reveal the TARDIS. 

“Oh- oh no, honestly, no!” Sage could hear the fear the Doctor tried to hide in his voice. “Yes, that's my ship.” 

The plastic roared in fury. Sage reeled back in fear. She stood up, ignoring the tremor in her hands and legs. The other two were steadfastly watching the scene below, paying no attention to Sage.

She scanned the area and noticed an axe on the ground, she jogged over and picked it up. The weapon was heavy in her hands, but she only gripped it tighter. There was a chain hanging tightly coiled on the wall beside the axe.

With all her strength, Sage hacked at the chain. The noise was masked by the conversation between the plastic and the Doctor. The plastic’s roars were deafening and rung in Sage’s ears. 

“That's not true. I should know, I was there. I fought in the war.” Sage bit back a sob. Her mind ripped open and flashes of the war flitted through her mind and Sage practically felt the Doctor’s pain that she choked. 

“It wasn't my fault! I couldn't save your world! I couldn't save any of them!” 

Sage continued hacking the chain, the process slowly working. Rose cried to the Doctor in fear, “What's it doing?!” 

“It's the TARDIS! The Nestene has identified its superior technology. It's terrified!” the Doctor explained rapidly. “It's going to the final base. It's starting the invasion! Get out, Rose! Just leg it! Now!” the Doctor pleaded. Sage felt a twinge of anger at being left out of his plea. She cast it aside, he probably just didn't see her. Yeah, that was it. 

The chain finally gave way and Sage dropped the axe. She wrapped the chain around her hands, turning around toward the Doctor. She could barely hear Rose's side of the conversation over the plastic’s roaring, “Mum?! Where are you, mum? Go home! Just go home, right now! Mum?! Mum!”

A bright beam shot out of the Consciousness, temporarily blinding Sage as she averted her eyes, dropping the chain. It fell heavy by her feet and Sage closed her eyes in pain, a throbbing pain forming behind her eyes. The Consciousness sent out a signal.

“It's the activation signal! It's transmitting!” The Doctor cried, still held hostage. 

“Get out, Rose! Just get out! Run!” Part of the ceiling fell. The sound thundering in Sage’s ears.

“The stairs have gone!” Sage could hear Rose and Mickey desperately to get into the TARDIS.

“I haven't got the key!” Rose cried, despaired.

“We're gonna die!” Mickey screeched. 

Sage mustered all the strength she had and called out, “Rose!”

She heard the footsteps coming to her, Sage grabbed Rose's hand, “See that chain, swing down and kick the plastic men away from the Doctor. The anti-plastic will knock in.” She explained, the sounds overwhelming her, but she pushed through.

“There's nothing you can do!” Mickey cried, reaching out toward her in plea.

Rose looked down at the chain, then back up at Sage who was pleading with her with her eyes, then at the Doctor struggling. She nodded, determined, “I've got no A Levels.” 

“No job... no future.” Rose said, gathering her courage. She let go of Sage and reached down, gripping the chain securely, experimentally tugging it. “But I tell you what I have got. Jericho Street Junior School under 7s gymnastic team.” 

“I got the bronze!” Rose swung across the gap over the Consciousness. She kicked the Autons holding the Doctor hostage into the Nestene, anti-plastic and all. 

Sage smiled in pain as she saw her plan work. She staggered over to Mickey, nearly falling on him.

“Whoa, you okay Sage?” Mickey asked in concern as he caught her.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, don't worry.” She reassured weakly, steadying herself. 

She leaned heavily against the door of the TARDIS.Touching the lock, it clicked open and she fell into the TARDIS. Groaning at the pounding migraine, Sage pushed herself up and stumbled down to her room.

The TARDIS gave a concerned hum, helping her stumble into the bedroom and closing her door. She barely had time to throw her glasses and beanie onto the bed before high-tailing it to to the bathroom where she sank down to her knees and vomited into the toilet.

The acidic taste left her mouth several times as she emptied her stomach. Minutes later, she finished and stood up weakly toward the sink.

Sage found herself in the familiar position of leaning over the sink. She grabbed a cup and washed her mouth several times before the taste of vomit disappeared from her mouth. She washed her mouth again with a small cup of mouthwash just in case.

Sage dropped the cup into the sink. She sank down onto the floor, her back against the bathtub beside her. Her migraine dulled into a throbbing headache, and she looked up to the TARDIS ceiling, groggily.

“Do you know what the fuck just happened?” she asked, voice scratchy from her vomiting.

The TARDIS hummed in confirmation and information streamed into her mind once again. Sage frowned as she comprehended the new knowledge.

“So when you first info-dumped me, you woke up latent telepathic abilities from my DNA, me being human was unable to comprehend the new abilities, but it was barely noticeable but then it worsened when the Nestene Consciousness cast the thought control or whatever and that’s why I feel so shitty. Did I get everything?” she asked flippantly.

The TARDIS hummed in amusement, “Great you’re amused. I have a raging headache, want to vomit again, and maybe go into a year long coma, but you’re fucking amused,” she said, venom dripping from every word.

The TARDIS gave an apologetic hum and Sage deflated, sighing deeply. “It’s not your fault. You were only doing what you thought was best and fastest to help the Doctor. I forgive you, dearest.”

Some more information streamed into her, and she smiled in thanks, “It’d be great if you can do that. _Please_ ward my mind, I don’t fancy vomiting or getting a headache every time someone uses telepathy or whatever on me.”

The throbbing headache muted until it was barely there and Sage sighed in relief. “Thanks dearest.”

Sage heaved herself up, getting out of the bathroom and plopped face down onto the bed, making sure she didn’t crush her glasses. 

The TARDIS informed her that the Doctor invited Rose, but came in without her. “Well do you want her on board?” she asked, muffled by the comforter.

Sage rolled onto her back, “So you do want her on board. Why do you want _me_ on board with them? It's a fixed point? What's so important about her that it's a fixed point in time?”

The TARDIS hummed back resigned, “She sets off something that needs to happen? Is it something bad?”

She narrowed her eyes at the ship when she didn't answer, “If it's not bad, then it doesn't matter. If it's supposed to happen, let it happen. Time is stupid when it comes to the Doctor, remember? If she does something, then she'll probably feel remorse anyway, compassionate that Rose is."

Sage rolled back onto her stomach, “Anyway, I'll kick his ass tomorrow, after I sleep. I feel like I can go into a coma.”

The TARDIS agreed and dimmed the lights accordingly. “Don't let him find me, okay?” Sage rolled over, slightly slurring her words as her face came into contact with a pillow.

There was a fond hum and for the first time in years, Sage fell into another sound sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment below about what you liked or disliked and I will see you in the next chapter!!!


	3. The End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outer space, Aliens, Bitchy Trampolines, oh my!

The Doctor didn't know what to make of Sage Tran. She was a puzzle to him and he loved puzzles.

While he was unconscious, she had rambled on about anything and everything to him. It was nice, listening to someone and not having to worry about anything. For a while, he could just listen to Sage and pretend that Gallifrey wasn't gone. Pretend that his people didn't burn. Pretend that it wasn't his fault. But then he woke up and she wasn't there, Gallifrey was still gone and his mind was so, so empty.

So he ran again, away from that terrible reality and found Sage in the kitchen, humming and in her own little world.

Sage looked so peaceful there and right, like that was where she belonged. He had surprised her and he was surprised by the genuine smile that emerged from her reaction and responses. Being around Sage was easy and it felt like she was meant to be with him. But the Doctor was broken and she didn't deserve to be burned by him, like Gallifrey had. 

Then his loss of control (he refused to call it a panic attack) happened and she didn't look at him with pity or scared eyes. She knew what to do, helped him and gave him that soft smile and look of understanding.

It terrified him that this small, young woman could understand him so well after only knowing each other for a few days.

He was going to drop her off right away after she woke. Let her go back to that domestic life where she probably had a boyfriend and a pet and back to her little, human life. (And there wasn't any sort of longing in that sort of life. He loved his life. Adventuring, running, discovery. Everything about it was fantastic.)

A new adventure came passing and he jumped onto it, intent on taking care of it and dropping Sage off. (Because who knew what would happen if they stayed together? ~~He did. It would only end in death. It _always_ ended in death when it involved him.)~~

The TARDIS disagreed with him, as she was wont to do, and reluctantly he asked her to go with him. (And who was he trying to kid anyway? Sage was so _interesting._ He had never met someone like her. It was stupid and cliche. But he was intrigued. And that should be his first sign, shouldn't it?)

He had found her hunched over the sink, and he was hesitant to say anything, but he did. (He always had a bit of a gob on him. Seemed this regeneration was a bit of a talker too. ~~He resolutely ignored his reflection. He would never look in the eyes of a murderer~~ )

Her first instinct was to hide behind a mask and the Doctor almost keeled over at the fact that this brilliant, _fantastic_ young woman was so much like him. (Masks were always an instinct with him. Same with smiles and science and talking too fast. If he talked too fast and too loud, no one would see his sadness. ~~He wasn't sad.~~ He was a Time Lord, they don't dwell on emotions.)

And he _hated_ it. It was an eerie feeling, finding a kindred spirit, especially in a human. The Doctor didn't know how to feel about that, especially with the TARDIS’s hint of her being important in his personal future. (His future always terrified him. He could never see it, never predict it, ~~never prevent it~~ , never knew what came next for him. But, hell, that was always half of the fun. ~~Maybe not anymore, why can't he just die?)~~

So he ran, away from his future, from the loss of his planet, from the unbearable emptiness in his mind, and far, _far_ away from the woman with her bright, twinkling eyes and soft, understanding smile. ( ~~Oh, he could run, but he could never hide, could he?~~ )

* * *

Sage woke up, groaning and blinked in surprise when she woke up well rested. “Well isn't that a Christmas miracle?” she murmured. 

Sage rolled out of bed and grabbed her glasses. She took a quick shower before changing into her casual clothes of a pullover hoodie, jeans and chucks. Grabbing a pop tart for breakfast, because she was an adult dammit, she walked through the halls. The TARDIS was talking to her nonstop, seemingly eager with her new friend. Sage could only smile along, only slightly confused that a magical (fine, science-y) space and time ship would try and talk with her. Let alone _keep_ talking to her, like they were family or something. 

Weird.

Sage saw the Doctor puttering around, not even noticing her. Sage plopped down onto the jump seat, waiting for the Doctor to notice her. The bitterness came back, nipping at the heels of her heart. Internally, she chided herself. Why did she want his attention? That was stupid and clingy of her. She just got over _him._ She didn't need another reason to go back to therapy. Somners would love to see her, but she wanted her life back. And maybe she was being a bit of a bitch, but whatever. She didn't need a crutch her whole life. Somners was wonderful, and she missed seeing him, but asking for more help made her skin crawl.

And like what was up with her and her bitterness over Rose? She could still feel it, the sharp, jagged edges coming at her, overwhelming her. It was stupid. But she was feeling it. And as Somners said, it was alright to feel, even if it was kinda childish.

Several moments later the Doctor started in surprise at the sight of her. “Sage? I thought you left.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, “Surprise, I stayed. Question is though where's Rose? You seemed pretty chummy with her, didn't you invite her?” She hoped the bitterness and jealousy wasn't present in her tone. The Doctor didn't seem to notice as he sighed and hunched down.

“I did ask, but she said no.” ~~Sage didn't wilt at the Doctor's dejected tone, no, the Doctor forgetting about her didn't remind her of her family at all. Oh, maybe that was why. The reminders of her family. That didn't open barely healed wounds. Nope, not at all.~~

“Well were you nice when asking? Sometimes your tone can be a bit, well, rude. Ask again sometime and maybe she'll come running to you.” Sage proposed, hiding her insecurities with a wide grin. She could be friendly. Her job required it because sometimes students are idiots, let her say that gently. And Rose only seemed like she was nineteen. That was how old her students were! She was _not_ going to let that hinder her or the Doctor.

“I don't ask twice,” the Doctor replied curtly.

“Well maybe you should this time, you seemed a bit hung up on her since the last time,” she muttered the last part, but the Doctor seemed to be hanging onto one of her words.

“Time, time… Time!” the Doctor exclaimed. “I didn't mention that it can travel through time!”

He started hopping around the console, happily muttering to himself. Sage smiled fondly as he did so, tilting her head. She bit her lip, should she bring up the ignoring part? If she didn't she'll just go crazy with questions and maybe depressed, her anxiety might come into factor too.

If she did, she'll open a whole can of worms that might make things worse. If she didn't, it'll make the whole experience torture being put onto the sidelines again. “Doctor-” she started, but the Doctor zipped to the door, opening it and sticking his head out.

Well, there went her chance. She already used up all her courage for the next month and resigned herself to being put aside like always.

Sage sighed and put her best mask and smiled. Rose came running in all smiles and settled by the console.

The Doctor smiled at Rose, heading back to the controls, “Right then, Rose Tyler, you tell me, where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. What's it going to be?”

“Forwards.” Rose said after a moment's deliberation. The Doctor pressed a few buttons, accepting her decision. 

“How far?”

Rose floundered for a number before saying, “One hundred years.” 

The Doctor pulled a lever and turned a knob. The engines lurched and then stopped. “There you go, step outside those doors, it's the twenty-second century.” He said happily.

“You're kidding,” Rose said, eyes wide in disbelief. 

Sage smiled gently, she could see why the Doctor was so enamored with her. Her wide eyes and innocent air, the hint of spunk in her actions. 

If people didn't look down at same-sex couples, she'd like to date Rose Tyler as well. But they were and people were narrow-minded. Being any sort of LGBT was looked down on, and Sage hated all the discrimination in the world. Guys and girls were both hot, why was that so wrong?

“That's a bit boring though, do you want to go further?” The Doctor continued, unaware of Sage’s musings.

“Fine by me!” Sage tuned back into the other's conversation, pushing her thoughts away.

The Doctor started up the engines again. When they stopped, he looked at Rose, wide-eyed and full of enthusiasm and curiosity. “Ten thousand years in the future. Step outside, it's the year 12005, the New Roman Empire.”

“I'd’ve thought Rome would've stayed dead,” Sage said under her breath.

“You think you're so impressive,” Rose said over her, teasingly.

The Doctor made an offended noise, “I _am_ so impressive!”

“You wish!” Sage tried not to cringe at the blatant flirting. After this, she was going home. She refused to be the third wheel in this story. Sage was a queen and deserved the universe. At least that was what she repeated to herself, desperately trying to believe her own words.

“Right then, you asked for it. I know exactly where to go.” The Doctor revved up the engine, pumping a lever furiously. 

“Hold on!” Sage automatically clung onto the railing as their ride jolted.

The TARDIS hurtled through the time vortex. With a pinging noise, the TARDIS stopped.

Sage frowned. Where was the wheezing noise? The TARDIS hummed, and Sage’s eyes narrowed. And there was the other thing. The TARDIS acted so chummy with her, as if they were family, right from the start. Like what was up with that? Why did she want Sage? What could be so important that the TARDIS specifically had to go out and ask for _Sage's_ help. She was a time machine, Sage was human. There was nothing extraordinary about her.

“Where are we?” Rose asked.

The Doctor gestured toward the doors, and Rose smiled excitedly. 

“What's out there?” The Doctor gestured again. Sage couldn't help but roll her eyes, did he have to be so dramatic? Rose stepped outside the doors and the Doctor followed. Sage made her way to follow the two, but the TARDIS stopped her.

“What do you need, dearest?” The TARDIS hummed an apology and an explanation. 

“Don't apologize for your thief, it's his fault, not yours. Besides I'm used to this,” she reassured.

The TARDIS hummed indignantly, protesting the Doctor’s treatment of her.

“Dearest, it's alright. The Doctor has a thing for Rose, I'm not gonna get in the way of that. If they want to be together or whatever, I'll let them. Besides I'll be going home to my boring old life soon, and the Doctor’ll forget all about me.”

The TARDIS protested loudly at this. Sage sighed, “Dearest, you know he's enamored with Rose. It's likely he already forgot all about me. When I walk out right now, he won't be there because he's busy impressing Rose.”

The TARDIS gave a defeated hum and Sage knew she was right. The twinge in her heart grew at the familiar abandonment.

“I'll be fine, dearest,” Sage reassured.

The TARDIS grumbled in disagreement and Sage smiled at her fierce protectiveness. 

“You can't just kidnap me,” Sage said, amused.

The TARDIS whined like a petulant child.

Sage laughed, “Tell you what, you get me home on time, same day as when you found me, and I'll come when the Doctor next arrives at the end of the school year. Deal?”

“No sooner, I can't leave my kids.” Sage said sternly. The TARDIS agreed reluctantly.

“Great!” Sage said brightly, “I'm gonna go catch up with those lovebirds now. Who knows what trouble they're in?”

The TARDIS stopped her again. “Oh c'mon what now?”

“What'd you mean I have to change? What's wrong with my jeans and hoodie?” she cried.

The TARDIS tutted, “Are you fucking- Fine, I'll humour you, but no bloody dresses and heels. I've had enough of those when I was younger.”

An excited hum and Sage sighed in acceptance.

A few minutes later, Sage was dressed in a plaid light-blue skirt, TARDIS blue long sleeve shirt and a forest green jacket. Her beanie was gone and her ponytail was traded for a neat and simple updo.

She still kept her Converse though, something she had to fight the TARDIS for.

“I look ridiculous,” Sage stated, pushing her glasses up by the bridge, “Can I go now?”

The TARDIS waved her off with a hum and she gladly stepped out of the TARDIS. She was near a door and walked close to it.

“Now if I was a wandering Time Lord, where would I be?” Sage wondered aloud. “In the thick of all the trouble of course!”

“Who the hell are you?” Sage spun around. A blue man in robes hurried over her.

Hiding her panic with a blasé mask, Sage raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, I don't appreciate your tone,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Important as you seem to be, you must still treat others with respect,” she said primly.

The man floundered, “Well this is a maximum hospitality zone! And you're not on the guest list, so how did you sneak on?”

“Did you check the list before you've accused me? Or even asked my name so that you could make sure that I was a stowaway? Or is it policy to accuse people willy-nilly?” Sage asked.

The man was saved from answering by a deep, telepathic chuckle, _“Oh, your majesty. Still as silver tongued as I remember.”_

“You and I both know that I'd never lose my silver tongue, old friend,” she said, playing along.

Sage turned around and was greeted by a huge head in a huge jar. She was dwarfed and astonished at the size, but she easily hid her surprise.

 _“Of course, why would I ever think otherwise? Steward, welcome her royal majesty Queen Sage of Sáng Tạo, and my plus one.”_ Sage’s lip twitched at the correct pronunciation of creation in Vietnamese, but otherwise stayed passive.

“Ah right yes of course,” the steward tried to save face. “Enjoy your stay here, your majesty. I won't accuse you of anything again.”

“Make sure you don't,” Sage said graciously.

The steward scurried away and Sage walked toward the face, “Do I know you?”

 _“Not yet in your present time, Queenie. Though it has been far too long since I've seen you so young,”_ the face replied.

Sage nodded in understanding, “Time travel, makes meetings all skewed. I get it. Though mind telling me your name? Can't just call you big, old face, can I?”

_“No I suppose not. Here, they call me the Face of Boe.”_

Sage raised an eyebrow, “And what do they call you at home?”

Boe’s large eyes held a sparkle of amusement, _“Spoilers, shall we say. Come walk with me towards observation deck, we shall talk along the way.”_

The two went towards the deck, Sage immediately began pestering him with questions, “When do I meet you? Before or after you were a giant head? How did I meet you? Was it with the Doctor? How much can you tell me? And what's your real name?”

Boe chuckled, “ _Soon, before, an adventure, yes, not much, and spoilers. Still curious as ever.”_

“The day I stop being curious is the day time runs out,” Sage quipped back. “Back to the questions, how in the world did you manage to change into a giant head? Or were you born like that?” 

_“Spoilers, my dear. Though I suppose you could call me a jack of all trades,”_ Boe chuckled as if sharing an inside joke, and Sage was left to ponder what he meant the rest of the walk.

When Boe was wheeled into the room, the same steward from before announced them, “Sponsor of the main event, please welcome the Face of Boe and his plus one, Queen Sage.” 

Sage understood now why the TARDIS made her dress up as all the aliens walked in haughtily and she scowled, “Cheeky old girl.”

Boe chuckled, “ _The TARDIS interfered again, I see?”_

“She did, of course she did. Didn't want me to be embarrassed by all the rich snobs,” she said darkly.

_“Oh don't be like that, Queenie. You know she means well.”_

_“_ Yeah, I do,” Sage muttered, petulant.

Sage sighed and looked around before spotting the Doctor and Rose together.

Approaching them was the blue one in the chair. What was his name, Moxx of Balhoon? Yeah, that was it.

She stifled a giggle as he spat directly into Rose's left eye. The Doctor didn't hide his full grin.

After more boring formalities, the steward took the microphone again and said, “Last but not least, our very special guest. Ladies, gentlemen, Trees and multiforms, consider the Earth below. In memory of this dying world, we call forth the last human.” 

The Doctor looked at Rose to see her reaction, and Sage looked curiously over at the doors.

The sliding doors opened and what looked like a vertical trampoline made of human skin was wheeled through. It had eyes and a mouth covered in lipstick.

“The Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen,” the steward said with a hand flourish.

“Oh, now, don't stare. I know, I know it's shocking, isn't it? I've had my chin completely taken away and look at the difference! Look how thin I am.”

“Wow,” Sage said, “No words.”

“ _First time for everything, my dear,”_ Boe said.

Sage narrowed her eyes at the face, “Are you saying I talk too much?”

_“If the shoe fits.”_

“I'm able to kick you with it,” she retorted.

Boe only laughed in response.

“Thin and dainty! I don't look a day over two thousand. Moisturize me, moisturize me,” Cassandra continued and Sage tuned out her conversation, watching ‘the last human’ instead.

One of the two men in white bodysuits who wheeled her in was holding a canister, which he sprayed onto Cassandra. 

“Truly, I am The Last Human.”

“My father was a Texan. My mother was from the Arctic Desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in the soil,” Sage’s brow furrowed at her almost careless tone and listened intently to Cassandra speak.

“I have come to honour them and,” Cassandra offered a fake sniffle, “say goodbye. Oh, no tears,” Her bodyguard wiped her eyes. “No tears. I'm sorry. But behold!” she cried. “I bring gifts. From Earth itself, the last remaining ostrich egg.”

One of the staff came in and displayed the egg to the room. “Legend says it had a wingspan of 50 feet and blew fire from its nostrils,” and Sage cringed at the inaccuracy.

“Or was that my third husband?” Cassandra joked. “Who knows! Oh don't laugh. I'll get laughter lines!”

Behind her, a large jukebox is wheeled into the room. Sage had a funny feeling that Earth was being made fun of in this 'remembrance'. Her anger flared, and she wanted to say something, but she physically bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. The Boe face seemed to notice, his great features turning down into a frown. " _I see you still have that bad habit."_

"What?" She turned from the fiasco, brows furrowing in confusion. She crossed her arms, shifting her feet. There was something in Boe's tone that made her feel as if she was being torn open and dissected. It hadn't felt like that when she first met him, but now his knowing look, sad eyes, all that made her feel as if she was more exposed than she liked. 

" _Biting your lip, Queenie. Seems habits die hard."_ And Sage really wanted to ask him more about that. How much did he really know her? Why did he stay around after knowing her? Why he treated her like such a good friend? She had been so distracted by this adventure, by all these new things surrounding her that only now she felt the openness that Boe exposed around her.

“And here, another rarity!" Cassandra interrupted them, and there was no one else that Sage felt like slapping than that bitchy trampoline. "According to the archives, this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity's greatest composers.”

“Play on!” One of the staff pressed a button and a record fell into place. The 'iPod' started playing _‘_ Tainted Love’ by Soft Cell.

Sage winced, “‘Tainted Love’ are you kidding me?” And Boe laughed as if there was a hidden joke between them. As if they were so close that they were still teasing. It made her feel an odd sort of warm. As if she was cared for. And that wasn't a feeling she had felt in nearly five years. Not since.... she shook her head, focusing back on the present. 

“Refreshments will now be served. Earth Death in 30 minutes,” the steward said.

Sage looked over to see Rose with a lost, overwhelmed expression on her face, and rushed away from the gallery. Concerned, she made her way to follow her but the Doctor already started. On his way the tree woman stopped to take a picture of him, “Doctor? Thank you.” The Doctor chased after Rose. The woman walked in the opposite direction and Sage followed her. She absently heard the Adherents of the Repeated Meme offering the steward a silver egg. 

“A gift of peace in all good faith.”

“No, you're very kind, but I'm just the Steward.” 

Sage reached the woman, “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she started. “You must be one of the ambassadors from the City State of Binding Light, yes?”

The woman turned around, the bulky camera in her hand, and looked shamed faced.

“Yes! Yes, I apologize, your majesty. I'd curtsy but my hands are full at the moment. I'm ambassador Jabe,” she said, apologetic.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Sage said graciously, “I see you're curious about our unique guest.”

“Yes, he's rather fascinating. I don't think he's actually a guest here,” she admitted.

Sage laughed, “He's not, not in any way, if you like I can tell you a bit about him.” And Sage slightly wondered if this was a breach in privacy. If she was betraying the Doctor's trust in revealing this about him. Because she knew that gleam in Jabe's eyes, that curiosity that filled her with gluttony and want until it was fulfilled and satisfied, but Sage threw all caution to the wind because she was on an _adventure._ There were supposed to be risks. And she could trust Jabe, she felt it.

“That would be nice, my machine has malfunctioned; it refuses to tell me where he's from.”

“The Doctor is a special case, he's the last of his kind,” Sage started slowly.

She stopped, carefully choosing her next words, “He had to make one of the worst decisions in his life to save the universe.”

Jabe's eyes widened, faint recognition in her eyes, and Sage nodded grimly, “I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, the Time War.”

“How is that possible? I thought that was a myth!” she cried in awe. 

“I'm afraid not.” The ship shuddered, and Sage frowned. “That's odd,” Sage muttered. She looked at Jabe, “If you'll excuse me,” she nodded in farewell absentmindedly and walked out of the gallery.

“Honoured guests may be reassured that gravity pockets may cause slight turbulence, thank you.” the steward's voice boomed out.

Sage wandered the corridors and reached a door that said, ‘Steward’.

There was a loud scream of pain and Sage could smell burnt flesh. She gasped, a conclusion reached in her mind. Hesitantly, she tried the door, it opened with ease, and she tilted her head, eyes in anger. The remnants of the steward made her gag, the stench of his barbequed body paired with the sight of it made her dry heave. Looking around, she tried to find any evidence of the murderer. A spider escaped through the open door, and Sage hurried after it, seeing it escape into an air vent. 

Sage’s eyes narrowed at the little robot, “Sabotage,” she said with realization.

 _“Earth Death in 15 minutes. Earth Death in 15 minutes,_ ” a computerized voice said.

“Well, you don't have to sound so happy about it,” Sage said up to the ceiling as smoke escaped from underneath the door. 

* * *

“Who's in charge of Platform One? Is there a captain or what?” The Doctor asked as he and Jabe made their way toward the maintenance corridor. 

“There's just the steward and the staff. All the rest is controlled by the metal man,” Jabe replied.

“You mean the computer? But who controls that?” he asked incredulously. 

“The Corporation. They move Platform One from one artistic event to another.” 

“But there's no one from the corporation on board,” the Doctor pointed out

“They're not needed. This facility is purely automatic. It's the height of the alpha class. Nothing can go wrong,” 

“Unsinkable?” The Doctor said, his lips twisted in small amusement.

“If you like, the nautical metaphor is appropriate,” Jabe answered, not comprehending the joke.

“You're telling me. I was on board another ship once. They said that was unsinkable... I ended up clinging to an iceberg, it wasn't half cold.”

The Doctor shook his head and went back on topic, “So, what you're saying is, if we get in trouble there's no one to help us out? 

“I'm afraid not,” Jabe said with a small frown.

“Fantastic,” he said with a grin and started walking again.

“I don't understand,” Jabe started, rushing after him. “In what way is _that_ fantastic?” Behind them, a spider crept out of its hiding place. 

The Doctor and Jabe made their way down the corridor, the low ceiling forcing them to stoop slightly.

The Doctor didn't answer, changing the topic, “So, tell me, Jabe. What's a tree like you doing in a place like this?”

“Respect for the Earth,” she answered automatically. 

“Oh, come on,” the Doctor scoffed. “Everyone on this platform's worth zillions.”

“Well... perhaps it's a case of having to be seen at the right occasions.”

“In case your share prices drop?” he asked, tone full of disdain. “I know you lot. You've got massive forests everywhere, roots everywhere, and there's always money in land.” 

“All the same. You respect the Earth as family. So many species evolved from that planet. Mankind is only one. I'm another. My ancestors were transplanted from the planet down below. And I'm a direct descendant of the tropical rainforest.” she finished proudly. 

The Doctor looked impressed. He then pointed to a control panel. “Excuse me,” He retrieved his sonic screwdriver and started poking the screen with it. 

“And what about your ancestry, Doctor?” Jabe asked as she watched him work. “Perhaps you could tell a story or two. Perhaps a man only enjoys trouble when there's nothing else left,” she trailed off.

“I scanned you earlier. The metal machine had trouble identifying your species, refused to admit your existence.” The Doctor pretended to be concentrating on the scan, but a flicker of emotion passed across his face. 

“And when Queen Sage named you, I almost wouldn't believe it. But she was right,” The Doctor stopped his scanning. Deep sadness is reflected in his eyes. Jabe's tone was hushed, awed. “I know where you're from. Forgive me for intruding, I just want to say… how sorry I am,” she said with pity in her eyes. 

And the Doctor felt a flash of anger at having been revealed by a _human_ and the idea of being comforted but Jabe put a comforting hand on his arm. And the memories came flooding back unwillingly, the damage too raw. His eyes were filled with unshed tears. He placed his hand over hers, and a tear fell down his cheek. He quickly averted his eyes, gritting his teeth and hiding from the pitying look, and finished the scan and he and Jabe went through a door.

The Doctor and Jabe found themselves in the ventilation chamber. Huge fans circulated the air. “Is it me, or is it a bit nippy?” he quipped. “Fair do's, though, that's a great bit of air conditioning. Sort of, nice and old fashioned. Bet they call it ‘retro’.” he scanned another control panel with his sonic screwdriver. 

“Gotcha,” he said triumphantly. The panel fell off and a spider scuttled out and scurried across the floor and up the wall. The Doctor and Jabe watched it. “What the hell's that?” It looked a bit like old fashioned earth technology refashioned to a newer standard. The bug droid was a bit old from what he could tell, but the standard workings were together. There had to be some sort of recall device attached with it or at least a remote control.

Where would they be able to control these little droids? Ideas, ideas, ideas, they all flittered through his mind. The patrons and guests. Oh! An idea, _duh_ , wow was he thick.

“Is it part of the ‘retro’?”

“I don't think so," he said absentmindedly, the workings of a plan creaking in his mind. Yeah, he still got it. "Hold on,” he pointed the screwdriver at the spider. However, Jabe fired something up at the spider, disabling it. It fell neatly into the Doctor's hand. 

“Hey!” the Doctor grinned, “Nice liana!”

“Thank you!” She smiled shyly, “We're not supposed to show them in public.”

“Don't worry, I won't tell anybody,” he reassured and turned his attention to the spider. “Now then. Who's been bringing the pets on board?” He scanned it, reading the information given. His expression darkened, which didn't go unnoticed by Jabe. She had moved closer to him, shoulders brushing before she moved back from his dark aura. She focused her attention back on the little droid.

“What does it do?” Jabe asked, examining it curiously.

“Sabotage,” the Doctor said curtly. Who would...? His mind went over and over who would possibly do this to these rich people. He narrowed it down to two. If he revealed a little bit... yes, that should do it.

“ _Earth Death in 10 minutes_ ,” the computer's voice droned, and his head shot up. Innocent people were still on this ship.

“And the temperature's about to rocket,” he said, alarmed. “Come on.”

The two hurried from the chamber and back to the gallery, not noticing Sage running into the chamber minutes after them. 

The Doctor and Jabe hurried along, the corridor was filled with smoke and the staff were coughing squeaky, little coughs.

“Come on! Get back!” he urged and moved his sonic screwdriver over another control panel. 

“ _Sunfilter rising. Sunfilter rising_ ,” the computer said.

“Was the Steward in there?!” Jabe cried in shock.

“You can smell him,” he said darkly. “Hold on, there's another sun filter program to descend,” he raced off, leaving Jabe to confront the others alone.

“ _Earth Death in 5 minutes_.”

Jabe entered the gallery, holding a small device, “The metal machine confirms. The spider devices have infiltrated the whole of platform one.”

“How's that possible? Our private rooms are protected by a code wall. Moisturize me, moisturize me,” Cassandra said, distressed.

The Doctor walked in and took the destabilized spider out of Jabe's hand. 

“Summon the Steward!” the Moxx of Balhoon squeaked.

“I'm afraid the Steward is dead,” Jabe said, grimly. There was a loud gasp from the guests.

“Who killed him?” The Moxx of Balhoon asked.

“This whole event was sponsored by the Face of Boe! He invited us!” Cassandra accused. The Face of Boe shook his head, a small look of concern and shock on his large face. “Talk to the face! Talk to the face!”

“Easy way of finding out.” The Doctor commented, fiddling with the spider. 

“Someone brought a little pet on board.” He brandished the spider. “Let's send him back to master.”

The Doctor placed the spider down on the floor. The spider scuttled along to Cassandra and looked up at her. Cassandra shifted in discomfort for a moment, but the spider moved on to the feet of the Adherents of the Repeated Meme. 

“The Adherents of the Repeated Meme. J'accuse!” Cassandra said loudly.

“That's all very well, and really kind of obvious, but if you stop and think about it…” the Doctor said, walking towards them.

The Adherents of the Repeated Meme tried to strike him, but he caught its arm and ripped it off. 

“A Repeated Meme is just an idea,” he continued easily. “And that's all they are. An idea.”

He ripped a wire out of the arm and all of the Adherents of the Repeated Meme crumpled into a bundle of black cloaks.” There was another loud gasp from everyone. Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

“Remote controlled Droids. Nice little cover for the real troublemaker. Go on, Jimbo!” He nudged spider with his foot. “Go home!” 

The spider ambled back over to Cassandra. 

“I bet you were the school swot and never got kissed,” Cassandra said, giving up her ruse. The Doctor raised his eyebrows. 

“At arms!” and her two bodyguards with canisters on either side of her raised their canisters. 

“What are you going to do, moisturize me?” The Doctor mocked. 

“With acid,” she said gleefully. “Oh, too late anyway. My spiders have control of the mainframe. Oh, you all carried them as gifts, tax free, past every code wall. I'm not just as pretty face.”

“Sabotaging a ship while you're still inside it? How stupid's that?” he criticized. 

“I'd hoped to manufacture a hostage situation with myself as one of the victims. The compensation would have been enormous,” she explained.

“Five billion years and it still comes down to money,” tone dripping with disgust.

“Do you think it's cheap, looking like this? Flatness costs a fortune,” she replied. “I am The Last Human, Doctor. Me. Not that freaky little kid of yours.”

“Arrest her!” the Moxx of Balhoon cried.

“Oh, shut it, pixie,” Cassandra snapped. “I've still got my final option.” 

“ _Earth Death in 3 minutes_.” 

“And here it comes. You're just as useful dead, all of you. I have shares in your rival companies and they'll triple in price as soon as you're dead. My spiders are primed and ready to destroy the safety systems. How did that old Earth song go? ‘Burn, baby, burn.’” 

“Then you'll burn with us,” Jabe said.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. I know the use of teleportation is strictly forbidden, but…” she said, faux apologetically. 

“I'm such a naughty thing. Spiders, activate.” There were loud explosions heard from around the ship. 

“Force field’s gone with the planet about to explode. At least it'll be quick. Just like my fifth husband,” she giggled. “Oh, shame on me. Buh-bye, darlings! Buh-bye, my darlings…” With that she and her bodyguards teleported out. Ooh, that would be a fun bit later. Teleportation was always a cheap trick, but joke was on her for using teleportation.

“ _Heat levels rising_.” The computer informed.

“Reset the computer!”

Jabe shook her head, “Only the Steward would know how.”

“No. We can do it by hand. There must be a system restore switch. Jabe, come on,” and they left the room. 

The Doctor called back to the crowd over his shoulder, “You lot - just chill!"

_“Earth Death in 2 minutes. Earth Death in 2 minutes.”_

Jabe and the Doctor ran back through the maintenance corridor. 

“ _Heat levels, rising. Heat levels, rising._ ”

The Doctor and Jabe entered the ventilation chamber. They were surprised to see a familiar green jacket tied around a brick which was weighing a lever down. Which, really? How was that even working? Sheer dumb luck? ~~Of course he couldn't talk. Most of his plans relied on sheer, dumb luck and his ingenuity. It was a tenuous balance between the two.~~ The giant fans from earlier were slowly spinning and a familiar figure were jumping through them.

“ _Heat levels - rising. Heat levels, rising.”_

“Bloody hell, I know you fucking asshole! I'm trying to stop it!” Sage yelled.

“Sage? What the hell are you doing?!” the Doctor cried.

Sage spun around in front of the last fan, and saw Jabe and the Doctor on the other side of the fans.

“What do you think, Doctor Oblivious?!” she said with a large grin. “Saving the rich and famous!”

“You could die!” 

“So?”

She squinted, “Is that Jabe? The heat's ventilating in here! She'll die, get out of here, Jabe!” Sage turned back around, knowing the Doctor would back her up.

The Doctor looked down at Jabe, “She's right, get out of here. Hide behind the pillars, get everyone to do so.”

Jabe nodded, hesitating before she squeezed his arm, “Be safe and protect her.” The Doctor nodded and Jabe left hurriedly.

He untied the jacket and kept the lever down, watching his companion in concern.

Sage leapt through the last fan, tumbling over to the other side. The Doctor's hearts pounded. That had been a nasty fall, but Sage seemed relentless. She jumped up with a pained crow of, “Success!” 

Sage hurriedly pulled the lever down quickly with her left hand, wincing at that bad decision, but it was done. “ _Heat levels, lowering. Heat levels, lowering._ ” The computer's voice said. 

“Fuck yeah!” she cried, pumping her left, clenched fist up in the air, before making her way easily to the Doctor. 

“C’mon,” she said when she reached the Doctor. “Let's go get that saboteur, I bet you have some ideas on how.”

The Doctor smiled before frowning, “That was a reckless decision you made.” He eyed her bloody lip that seemed to be torn to shreds. He didn't know if that was because she bit her lip to hide a sound of pain or if that was a nervous tick of hers. And wasn't that odd? He usually picked up more on his companions in the first five minutes that they met. He knew the basics of Sage Tran, but it seemed there was some he still needed to learn. 

Sage smiled cynically, “Didn't you know, I'm all about reckless decisions. Helped you didn't I, that first day we met.” She laughed softly, clapping her hands gently, wincing a little bit, and wasn't that a giant red flag. She quickly transitioned away, holding out her right hand ~~but wasn't she left handed? Why would she give him her right hand? Was it because he was right handed and thus he would have to grab her right hand if they wanted to hold hands? Was he thinking to much on this?~~ while leaving her left hand clenched in a gentle fist.

The Doctor smiled as best he could, letting his thoughts rest for a bit because he was _busy,_ thank you very much. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He took her right hand and led her toward the gallery.

Inside all the guests were alive, shaken and injured but _alive_. ~~And didn't that make him feel _so_ relieved. Maybe he wasn't such a murderer. No, no, he was still a murderer. No need to delude himself.~~

Sage spotted Jabe huddled with her other ambassadors, let go of his hand and sped toward her. There was an odd sense of loss when Sage let go of his hand. But he didn't have time for that right now. He watched her a bit more intensively, noticing her favouring her right hand now. ~~Did she hurt herself?~~

Rose came up to him, “You alright?” she asked, concerned. And that warmth came back when that look from Rose filled him with a new feeling.

He looked down at her grimly, “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm full of ideas, I'm bristling with them. Idea number one, teleportation through five thousand degrees needs some kind of feed. Idea number two, this feed must be hidden nearby,” Sage was at the egg and tossed it to him. He caught it and broke it open and the teleportation feed fell out. He picked it up. 

“Idea number three, if you're as clever as me, then a teleportation feed can be reversed,” He twisted the feed. 

Cassandra appeared before them, in the middle of gloating. “Ah, you should have seen their little alien faces,” she laughed. She noticed her new surroundings. “Oh.”

“The Last Human,” the Doctor said with disgust. 

“So. You passed my little test,” she floundered with words. “Bravo. This makes you eligible to join the er... the human club.”

“Someone _died_ , Cassandra. You murdered him.”

“That depends on your definition of 'people',” she said haughtily. “And that's enough of a technicality to keep your lawyers dizzy for centuries. Take me to court then, Doctor! And watch me smile, and cry, and flutter….”

“And creak?” he said with a dark smile.

“And what?” she asked, taken aback.

“Creak!" The Doctor had a pleasant smile on his face, and Sage shivered at that. There was something about his smile that unsettled her, made her want to run away. She didn't know what about him that made her feel terrified. The power he exuded sometimes. The restraint. The anger. That same anger was like fire in his eyes, blue flames were alight in his irises as he smiled pleasantly at a terrified Cassandra. "You're creaking.” 

Cassandra's skin was tightening. Her eyes were becoming bloodshot and she was getting whiter and whiter. 

“What? Ah! Ah! I'm drying out! Oh, sweet heavens!” she cried, panicked. 

“Moisturize me! Moisturize me! Where are my surgeons? My lovely boys! It's too hot!” Soon she was covered in red blotches. 

“You raised the temperature. Sage and I managed to get it down, but it's still hot enough for you to burn.”

“Have pity! Moisturize me! Oh, Doctor!” she sounded terrified and pathetic.

“Help her,” Rose said in a small voice. 

The Doctor didn't look at her, “Everything has its time and everything dies.”

“I'm sorry it had to come to this, Cassandra,” Sage said, remorseful. She clenched her hands, not wanting to accidentally throttle the Doctor who somehow decided he was judge, jury and executioner, all of a sudden. There was nothing she could do. He controlled the TARDIS, even if most of the time she took him where he needed to go. He knew how to pilot her. He was the one who took her here, he could leave her here if he wanted to. Best not to get on his bad side on their first offworld adventure.

“I'm… too… young!” Cassandra cried in fear and she exploded. The Doctor looked on, completely cold and indifferent. She had deserved it. He _knew_ she did.

He left the room. 

* * *

“ _Shuttles 4 and 6 departing. This unit now closing down for maintenance_.” The computer said. 

Rose had followed after the Doctor, and Sage slipped away, bidding farewell to the Face of Boe and Jabe, to the TARDIS. 

Sage caressed the TARDIS lock and smiled when she let her in.

“Dearest, I suppose we won't see each other in a while. Just wanted to let you know that you're amazing and the Doctor should appreciate you more,” she said.

The TARDIS gave a mournful hum, and she quirked a small smile.

“Sorry that sounded like I was about to off myself. Right, stop sounding sad Sage.” she offered instead. Sage walked into the halls and grabbed her bag, sitting on the bed. She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She hugged her knees to her chest, feeling awkward as her right hand was doing the dominant thing right now instead of her left. She had badly scraped or burned her palm or something when she pulled that lever.

She unraveled herself, dropping down on her back to flop on the bed. She brought her hand up in front of her, placing it high in the air as it covered half her sight. It was an ugly purple and pink, and Sage could feel it slightly throbbing. But it wasn't the _worse_ pain she had gone through (periods were the _worse_ ). 

"Do you have anything for this?" She asked the TARDIS, who pointed her toward the bathroom. Pulling out an odd kit, half first aid half soccer? she didn't really know, and really didn't question it. She let the TARDIS guide her like she had done for Sage that first day they met. Slathering some sort of mixture on, a coolness made her palm tingle. But it felt better than before. She wrapped it with gauze, flexing her palm. It didn't hurt as much. Thank god.

“Thank you, love." There was a pause as she considered her circumstances. She could technically still stay here. She doubt the TARDIS would rat her out. But then she would always be playing an odd game of cat and mouse with the Doctor, and that sounded _exhausting_. This adventure already had been exhausting and the most she did was step through fans. An athlete she was not. Hiding from the Doctor in his, albeit really cool ship sounded like the worse kind of torture. Even though the TARDIS was like, really, _really_ cool.

Sage mulled it over. Did she really want to stay here with the Doctor and Rose who seemed in their own little world? Or did she want to go back to the comfort of her own home? Really, why was she even thinking it over? Comfort for the win. And she wasn't even being petty this time. She loved the idea of adventure and discovery _in theory_. But all this running around was really making her rethink it. Also Rose seemed more of a fit for the Doctor right now anyway. 

"The Doctor’s gonna comfort Rose for a while," Sage started slowly, "judging by how upset she was. She's a good egg, she'll probably end up comforting _him_ rather than the opposite. When they leave, can you change the coordinates a little to the day after we met?” Sage asked. “I'll slip out after them.”

The TARDIS hummed reluctantly, and Sage smiled, “Thanks dearest, you're the best.”

Moments later, Sage felt the TARDIS move and stood up, walking toward the door. Pausing by the doorway of her room, she bit her lip. Taking out a piece of paper, she scribbled a note to the Doctor. She walked back to the bed, leaving it folded up on it. She walked out to the console room. Nobody was there. There was a small sense of relief that she didn't have to confront anyone, but sad that she couldn't say goodbye to the Doctor.

Sage looked up at the ceiling, “This is the right time, right? Day after we met?” she said, teasingly. 

The TARDIS hummed offended and Sage giggled. “Kidding, only kidding babe. Well, see you, and don't worry I remember our deal.”

She walked down to the door, gave a small kiss to her fingers, laying it on the door handle before slipping out, immediately losing herself in the crowd.

* * *

After chips with Rose, the Doctor stood over the console, fiddling with wires.

Rose had left to go to bed, and he was left alone.

That adventure was bit cathartic, having someone else experience the burning of their own planet. The Doctor supposed it was harsh to do so, but he just wanted someone else to know what it felt like too. Exposing Rose to that might not have been the best first adventure, and he slightly regretted it. 

But his wounds were so fresh, he needed that kindred spirit.

He realized now that Sage was that kindred spirit he so desired, but he was rather blinded by Rose. Her warmth and compassion, her fiery spirit. Someone that challenged him, but not in a way that made him feel undermined. Being around Sage was almost the opposite. She had repeatedly gone off on her own without him, three times on this adventure. Three! But... he was the one that left her to her own devices. And there was regret that he ignored her so much on those last two adventures, when he realized that he _did_ ignore her.

The Doctor hadn't even realized she was gone until she was jumping between fans, so focused on Rose.

He was amazed by Sage's bravery, eagerness to help and her quick thinking with her jacket and brick.

Though where she had gotten the brick was the question.

The Doctor stopped fiddling with the console, intent to ask her. He walked toward her room and was surprised by the open door. He strode in and the room was clean and neat, as if no one lived there at all. There was a small piece of paper folded on the bed and the Doctor scooped it up, opening it.

_‘Dear Doctor,_

_I don't know when you'll read this, maybe it'll be a couple of adventures later. I thought it'd be kind to leave a note. Though I-’_ There were words scribbled out., and that made the Doctor frown. What was it that Sage didn't want him to know?

_‘So you know what happened. I decided to go back to my boring human life. You're not alone anymore, keep Rose with you, yeah? It's not good for you to be alone. Come visit if you want, you know where to find me after all those embarrassing stories I told you. Be fantastic._

_Kind regards,_

_S.T.’_

The Doctor read it twice more to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating before tucking the note back into his pocket, feeling more lost than he had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one of my favourite chapters. Also go to therapy if you need it. There's nothing wrong with admitting you need help. Don't be Sage like that.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment below what you liked or disliked, and I will see you in the next chapter!!!!!


	4. A Year in the Life of Sage Tran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor was gone, so Sage was just going to work on her own problems.
> 
> (Spoiler alert, she did not.)
> 
> Or 7 times Sage helped someone else that wasn't herself before the Doctor sort of helped her. 
> 
> (He didn't really.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: there is a scene with a forced kiss and then a small panic attack, but it gets resolved within seconds so just be warned.

A week after meeting the Doctor, Sage was slightly starting to regret not taking up on his offer of traveling with him. Now granted, he didn’t really _ask_ her to travel with him, but grading these essays and tests only made her want to join him, regardless of what he wanted. ~~Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t do that to him.~~

“Why? _Why?_ Why would you think that Russia and China were the same country? You're in _college,_ Adam. What the fuck?” She sobbed at the paper in front of her. “God, you would think with all the effort I take to teach these kids they would at least know the difference between Russia and China.”

She set down her red pen, flexing her fingers at the ache. The clock chimed, ringing clearly three times. Sage narrowed her eyes, “Three AM? Or three PM?” ~~And the TARDIS didn't reply, and how her heart hurt.~~ A glance out the window gave her no hints… because the drapes were drawn. Yes, Sage was an adult. She _was._

With a groan, she stood up with a stretch, trudging to the window and pulling back the drapes— only to pull back with a shock as bright lights blinded her. “Okay, three PM then,” she muttered, pressing the heel of her palm into her eyes as if that would stop the spots dancing behind her eyelids.

There was a crash outside, and a loud curse that followed. “Hmm, that sounds like someone else’s problem.”

A really emphatic, “ _Shit,_ ” caught her attention though, and she tilted her head. She sighed, there was no escaping it now. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Peeking her head out the door, she saw a middle aged blonde woman leaning against the wall, rubbing her ankle and cursing out a broken heel. Sage’s eyes widened, she hadn’t been expecting that. “Are you okay?”

The woman whirled her head to look at Sage, eyes wide. She scowled, flushing slightly in probable embarrassment. “Fine, just fine.”

“Oh- _kay_ ,” Sage drew out the word, eyes narrowed in disbelief. She eyed the woman, seeing her rubbing her ankle. It looked a little swollen, and Sage hid a wince. That must’ve been painful. There was a sheen of wetness to her eyes, but Sage didn’t comment. No need to make the woman feel more embarrassed than she was already. “Do you need some ice?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Sage huffed, stubbornness was the devil’s work. “Wait here.” She only had to rummage a bit through her freezer before sighing, “Well this will have to do.”

The woman was in the exact same place that Sage had left her, “Here, I didn’t have a freezer pack, so frozen peas were the next best thing. Keep that on your ankle, elevate it and don’t put any pressure on it. God knows that that’ll make it worse.”

“I—” the blonde looked stunned, and Sage tilted her head with a look.

“Do you need help getting inside?”

“No— no, I got it.”

Sage gave her a look full of disbelief but didn’t push. This wasn’t her battle anyway, she didn’t need to be seen as nosy. Besides, she had already helped her, and anymore pushing might lead to lashing out, which Sage did not want.

“Alright, if you need anything I’m just across the hall.” The woman stared, and Sage awkwardly turned on her heel and left the woman staring after her.

She closed the door, back leaning against the door and the memory of the teary look on the woman’s face making her feel uncomfortable. “That... was uncomfortable. Ugh, stop being so nosy, me, you’re gonna be seen as a dick. Right,” she clapped her hands. “Back to grading.”

She eyed the giant pack, her hand ached at the thought of grading any more papers. “Sometimes I hate being a teacher.”

* * *

Four weeks later, Sage cursed when she burned her tongue on the lasagna she was eating. “God, you would think I’d have more self control eating.”

She went for a glass of cold water, pausing when she heard muffled yelling outside her door. Her eyebrow raised as she tilted her head in interest, "Ooh, lovers quarrel, should I…?" She looked at the steaming pan of lasagna, trying to make up her mind.

The yell of, " _Go away, Mickey!"_ was loud enough to echo through her kitchen. Sage frowned. Mickey, Mickey, where had she heard that name before? "Oh! That guy under the London Eye! Ooh, that rhymed, nice."

She shook her head, getting back on track. "Wasn't he dating Rose or something? Did he rebound that quickly?" That didn't sit right with her. Mickey seemed like the good sort, if a bit of a follower. She couldn't see what Rose saw in him, but he seemed like a decent man, if a bit safe and bland.

" _Jackie, I'm serious—_ " anything else was lost to the thickness of her walls and Sage craned to see if she could hear anything else.

The sharp slam of the door made her flinch, bad memories cropping up before they were shoved aside. "Ooh. Not good for Mickey."

She bit her bottom lip. Would it be considered nosy if she _just so happened_ to open her door? It was barely a minute ago that supposedly Jackie slammed the door, Mickey was most likely still there. Stewing. In guilt or anger or something of the like.

Gnawing on her bottom lip in thought, she absentmindedly drifted toward her front door. She wasn't going to _interfere_ , per se, more observe what was happening, get the scopes on the situation, maybe see if it was the right Mickey.

Sage wasn't a busybody. She wasn't. Probably, possibly. Her feet only drifted closer to the door. But what could they be arguing about? Was it Rose? That seemed to be the case. Maybe they didn't approve of Rose travelling with the Doctor. That made sense. She was only, what?, nineteen maybe twenty at most? That was a terribly reckless decision.

~~Sage deliberately didn't remember that she had left the both of them go alone, unsupervised and left to their own devices. She removed herself from the equation, that was all. Rose could technically make her own decisions. She was technically an adult after all. Wow. Sage was such a hypocrite.~~

A thunk on the wall made Sage jump ~~—~~ ~~it couldn't be _him._ He was in jail. It can't— ~~

"Jackie, _please_ , hear me out." Mickey's voice was clearer now, and Sage took a step back. When did she get so close to the door? "It wasn't me. _I swear._ It wasn't me."

The air felt tense, and Sage felt goosebumps rise on her arms, unbidden. The sorrow and regret in Mickey's voice was practically tangible in the air, and Sage couldn't handle it anymore. She threw open the door, startling a man she presumed to be Mickey.

"Are you okay?" She couldn't help but ask because the man in front of her was the man from before. He had looked frightened then, confused and angered at the situation. But she had never seen him look so defeated. Which was weird because she met him once and being this vulnerable to a stranger was usually not allowed.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, scrubbing a hand down his face. Oh no, not another denier. She could barely deal with Jackie, how was she going to deal with this one?

"Who're you?" He asked, and Sage frowned as she took in his appearance, batting away at the twinge in her chest. W ~~as she really that forgettable? It was only a month ago, if that, was she invisible or something?~~ Mickey looked like hell. Heavy and dark eye bags were practically drawn into his skin. There was a slight scruff growing that would be unruly if he left it to grow even more. His clothes were ruffled, wrinkles in it, uncaring of outward appearances.

He must be hurting, she realized. His girlfriend up and left him a month ago, and he had no idea where she was, if she was safe, if they were still in a relationship or if they had broken up. 

"A concerned neighbor," she said when the staring got awkward and the silence too long. "Do you like lasagna?" ~~What is she doing? She’s inviting a virtual stranger into her house. What if this turned out horrible? What if he killed her? Oh my god, this could be the worst decision in her life.~~

Mickey's entire body startled, "What?"

"Do you like lasagna?" She asked again patiently, pushing aside her worries. She had made too much anyway. If she could give some away instead of having lasagna leftovers for weeks then all the better. "I made too much, and it should be cool now."

Mickey stared at her, and Sage stared right back. Looking at him like this, she could see how young he was twenty-one or a few years older but not even reaching twenty-five yet. She relaxed slightly. He was more like a puppy than a rabid man. God, she felt old in front of him. "Why are you offering me lasagna?"

"I told you, I made too much," she said with an impatient huff. She waved a hand impatiently, "Come inside if you want a plate, take off your shoes if you come in though. The door'll be unlocked for you, but this is a one time offer. Take it or leave it." And with that she closed the door, leaving it unlocked.

She went to her kitchen and dished up another plate, setting down on the counter-top when she heard the door open then close with a soft click, shoes being pulled off and thudding to the ground as they were set aside.

Maybe she was a _bit_ nosy.

* * *

Three months after that, she was running toward the closest store, a Tesco, trying not to get even wetter than she should. Usually she'd never take this route, too long and windy. But the day had been so beautiful, so warm in June, and she had finished work at the college easily enough. She had never explored her neighborhood that much the five years since she moved in. She only knew where her work was and where a few grocery shops were. There wasn't a need for much else.

But she was starting to regret not learning to drive a car or at least getting a cab. The day had been so clear, not a cloud in sight. What was up with London and sudden rain showers anyway? She was soaked. 

Her glasses were wet with the rain, and Sage _could not see_ in this weather. She took them off in a hurry, shoving them in her pocket as she hurried through the storm. Everything was even worse without her sight, but she didn't have to worry about them getting even more wet. The bright lights of the Tesco drew her in.

She burst through the doors, panting, as she relaxed from the vigourous running. She was not a runner, god she hated exercise. Her feet were achy and wet from the water that seeped in, socks soaking her feet. The feeling of it squishing as she walked away from the doors made her gag, squeezing out water from her shirt. She was so grateful her glasses were off and she couldn't see anyone's reactions right now.

“Fuck my life,” she muttered, running a hand through her tangled wet hair. She half regretted putting it up into a ponytail, the hair getting half wet or staying dry giving her a slight headache. Pulling out her glasses, she wiped them off with her scarf the best she could (which only blurred and smudged the lenses even more) before putting them back on. An employee gave her a dirty look and she gave them a fake smile as she tottered off to the side.

"Are you alright?" Sage startled, the voice was concerned, but too concerned. The inflection of that akin to a motherly tone, and Sage _knew_ that voice. She shoved her scarf into her pocket. 

Plastering on another smile, she spun around facing the woman she had met a few months ago. "Fine, just got a little wet." The employee was still giving her a dirty look, but the two of them weren't in front of any displays. They were having a nice, normal chat like people do. And Sage gave the employee a nice, _normal_ smile before the employee huffed and left to do real work.

The other woman looked out the store windows knowingly, shifting her grocery bags in hand, "It's pouring rather hard, innit? Are you able to get home safe?"

Sage shifted, the concern from a stranger overbearing. "Yeah, I'll wait until it's a bit lighter then walk the rest of the way home."

"You're walking?" The other seemed aghast and Sage gave her an awkward smile, confused at the astonished reaction. It wasn't that bad. The walk from home to work was fifteen minutes at most, round-trip being thirty minutes. And this wasn't the states, the drivers here were more considerate than back there so Sage wasn't concerned with getting hit.

“Yes? Is there something wrong with that?” 

"Nothing, nothing," she shook her head. "It's just— you're not very well suited for this sort of weather."

Sage blinked. How forward of the woman. She tilted her head and gave her a passive smile. "No, it caught me rather unawares. I was going to buy an umbrella here, wait for it to lighten up, then walk the rest of the way."

The woman gave her a long look of contemplation and Sage shifted in discomfort again. Her look softened at Sage's discomfort and a small, soft smile appeared. The woman ~~Sage really needed to get her name. The pronoun game was not fun~~ shifted her bags, taking off an umbrella that was hanging by its strap. ~~Huh, Sage didn't notice that. Weird. She usually always paid attention.~~

"Here," the umbrella was thrust into her hands, and Sage looked at it in bewilderment, blinking several times. "For the rain," at that, the rumbling thunder echoed in the store, tapering off softly, "you need it more than me."

"Wait, no— this is yours—"

"It's not a bag of frozen peas, but I don't think that would help you here," the blonde smiled as if she told a funny joke and Sage could only keep staring in confusion.

"Well," the woman said when it seemed apparent that Sage wouldn't— or couldn't— say anything else. "Best be off now. The groceries will spoil if I dawdle any longer."

Sage blinked, looking down at the umbrella in her hands, and the blonde left in a hurry without Sage's knowing. It was pink and very cutesy. Not her style, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Wait, if I have your umbrella, how're you going to—" and the woman was gone.

"Fuck, God I hope she has a car. Well with the amount of groceries in hand, maybe she does. Oh my God I still don't even know her name. She's still just the blonde woman." A tap on her shoulder startled her, and she looked up to see the same employer from before. "If you're not going to buy anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

Sage flushed in embarrassment, "Right, shut up Sage. Time to walk home." She squared her shoulders, walking out the store doors.

"Wait a minute," Sage blinked. The air was still cold and damp, but she couldn't feel anything falling on her. She reached her hand out, waiting to see if any droplets of rain would fall on her. When nothing happened, she blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"Mother _fucker!"_

* * *

Only a few days later, and Sage still couldn't fucking find that woman. She never met her again, and it had nearly been a week. She would think that since they were _next door neighbors_ they would somehow see each other.

But God had another plan in mind, and honestly Sage wasn't having it right now. She had considered just leaving the umbrella in front of her home, but then there was the possibility of someone stealing it or it getting broken or Sage coming off as rude since the blonde did let her borrow it when Sage needed it.

"Argh!" She thumped her head on her bedroom wall. The worrying was making her head spin, and she did not need that right now. She looked at the clock: 05:37 and winced. How long had she stayed up? Tomorrow would not bode well with her. Or today. Whatever. And it was too late, or rather early whatever, to go up to the roof.

She had around twenty minutes before she needed to get ready for work. Oh well, might as well change and get ready. It wouldn’t hurt. She wandered out of her bedroom, absentmindedly going through her daily morning rituals. She haphazardly pulled on clothes, only paying it the barest attention so as to make sure she didn’t make the same mistake she did on her job interview.

Checking sure that she looked presentable, she pulled her hair into a high ponytail, pulling it tight. Her hair fell down in its bonds with a slight bounce, and she smoothed down her blouse. “Ugh,” the beginnings of a headache started to form at her forehead, “I need some caffeine.”

She glanced at her clock: 05:55. New record, she grabbed the box of tea bags, pausing at the weight of it. Groaning, she could only let her head thump against a cabinet. When the hell did she run out of tea bags? Sage huffed, tossing the box away. There was nothing to do anyway. She would just have to go to Tesco or ASDA after work. She needed groceries anyway. Mickey was coming over and he wanted to try and help her cook, which if her instinct was telling her correctly she would probably need more than usual… in case they messed up. 

Oddly enough, Mickey had been the one to initiate contact after that first lasagna sharing. During the meal, it had been quite stilted as she had invited a _virtual stranger_ into her home, but they made it work. He reminded her of her baby brother, her locket felt like burning under her shirt, but the thought made her smile and conversation was smoother after that realization. She had sent Mickey packing with a few cases of tupperware and firmly expected not to get the boxes back. But he had come back a week later, dishes clean and sparkling and a sheepish grin on his face.

He had asked, quietly and with a face flushed in embarrassment if it was okay for him to come over for dinner again. Confused, Sage agreed but with her schedule, she hadn’t been able to get home early enough to cook and have dinner since that first day. She had been apologetic, but Mickey had been gracious, only asking for her number so that they can plan it out more thoroughly. Tonight was one such night.

“Well, seems I have to go to a cafe for a pick me up,” Sage hummed, picking up her satchel. She checked once more that she had everything she needed. Then once more again because she was a paranoid bastard, eyes sweeping over her little flat and her satchel. “Papers, pens, phone, water bottle… that doesn’t start with ‘p’, papers…. Okay, I’ve got everything.”

Sage started out, shoes on and ready to start the day. Her eyes wandered down to her bag, opening it again. “Papers, pens, phone, water bottle. Okay, _now_ I’m ready.” Sliding her key into the lock, she clicked it shut, trying the handle multiple times to make sure she had locked it well and secure.

Sage let out a breath, checking her watch: 06:03. If she hurried, she could probably make it to the university in half an hour, maybe just a bit later than that. She only needed to get there before 07:00. That made a smile cross her face. This wasn’t ruining her plans. She would be fine. She just needed to get a cup of tea and then—

Stopping in her tracks, she blinked, looking ahead at the quiet streets. “I have no idea where any cafes are.” She slapped her forehead. “Pay more attention to things, Sage. Should I just wander around ‘til I find a place…? No, then who knows if I could get to work on time? What to do, what to do?”

She had lived here for five years. It was amazing she was still alive. “Ah! Lemme text Mickey. He might know.”

_'Do you know any cafes nearby?’_

It barely took a minute before Mickey responded. _‘Yeah, why?’_

_'Need a pick me up. Directions, please?’_

_'Where are you now?’_

That made her frown. Why would Mickey need to know that? Curious and not seeing the harm, she texted that she was in the car park of the apartment complex. Mickey’s response made her furrow her brows in deeper confusion.

‘ _Give me five.’_

Sage paused. Five minutes? Five seconds? Five _hours_? If it was the last one, she would abandon ship right now and just wander and hope for the best. Car tires skidded into her view. Startled, Sage looked up with wide eyes to see Mickey in the driver’s seat of a yellow buggie, window rolled down.

“Need a ride?” he said with a smile. ~~Still a bit awkward, still a bit pained. He must really be missing Rose. Only lighthearted words today, Sage, nothing too heavy.~~

She rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to know where the nearest cafe was, Mickey. How did that translate into you driving me there?”

Mickey shrugged, smile still in place. “Thought I’d repay you for the lasagna, and the dinner you’re going to make me tonight.”

“Mickey, that was like a month ago.”

“Just get in the car, Sage.”

Sage grinned, getting in and buckling up. “Seriously though, thank you. I ran out of teabags this morning, and I do not want to be teaching my kids without some sort of caffeine in me.”

Mickey nodded, “The horror. When’s your first class, anyway.”

“Eight.”

“In the morning?!” And the sound of such abstract horror in his voice made Sage laugh out loud. 

“Yes, in the morning. Honestly, why do you think I’m awake right now and in dire need of caffeine.”

Mickey shook his head. “I can’t imagine people waking up to learn this early. I mean, I know before I woke even earlier for school. But this is college. Why would you willingly choose a morning class? Come to think of it, Sage, why are you teaching in the morning? You’re the one offering the class.”

“So that my evenings are free to smoke weed.” Sage said in this with deadest stare that she could muster and the flattest voice she had. It was worth the discomfort when Mickey hit the brake a little too harshly in surprise.

“ _What_?”

Sage broke out into raucous laughter, the scandalized look in Mickey’s face too much for her to keep her composure. ~~And thank god, he didn't seem so sad anymore. His smiles were genuine.~~ “You should’ve seen your face! Oh my god, priceless!”

Mickey’s face softened into a grin, a faux look of anger on his face. “And here I am thoughtfully driving you to a cafe and work, and this is how you repay me?”

With a roll of her eyes, “I’ll buy you a drink too, you baby.”

“And a blueberry muffin,” Mickey snatched at the opportunity.

“And a muffin, Mr Greedy,” Sage placated with a fake annoyed grin. “Oh, that reminds me, what did you want to make for dinner tonight? Or did you want to make some kind of dessert instead and I’ll handle the main course?”

“Can— can we make... a strawberry cheesecake?” And Sage frowned at the embarrassed tone, giving him a look.

She tilted her head, “Of course we can,” and the relieved and happy smile he gave her made her smile back genuinely. There was a story behind that particular dessert, but now definitely wasn’t the time to pry apart that story from Mickey. They had technically only met three times, and she wasn’t that close to him yet.

“So how’s the shop going?” Sage asked when the silence drew on a bit too long.

Latching on to the topic change, Mickey blathered on about the mundane and the stupid parts of his autoshop, complaining about a few of his coworkers slacking or taking too many breaks or whatever other reason.

Letting the words wash over her, she glanced at the dashboard clock: 06:15. Sage took in Mickey’s passionate words, smiling and chiming in when necessary, it was nearing the end of the school year, she could be a little late, just this once.

* * *

Sage tapped the pink umbrella in her hand. The pink umbrella she _still hadn’t been able to give back_. This was getting ridiculous. Over two months since Sage had been given the umbrella, and she still hadn’t fucking seen the woman. What the fuck were the chances of that? How unlucky was she? It literally made no sense. It _made no sense._ What kind of divine being would interfere that much that she couldn’t return a simple _umbrella_?

She groaned, tossing the umbrella to the coffee table. “This is getting out of hand. Do I need to camp out her door or something just to give this back? Ugh, why did she have to lend this to me? Though it has been rather useful to me, ever since autumn came early, it’s only been horrible rain showers.”

In the midst of her pity party, there was a crash outside of her flat, and her eyes widened. “What the fuck was that?”

“ _Bollocks,_ ” was the muttered curse, and Sage knew that voice. It was the woman! Oh, thank you God, maybe she won't curse in God’s name anymore. ~~Unlikely, she probably still would.~~

Sage flung open her door in a fit of excitement, glad to have finally returned the umbrella that had been haunting her existence for the past two months. Her eyes only widened when she was met with a rather pitiful sight instead. The woman was on her knees, clearly muffling some sobs. 

Her heart moved for the woman and had engulfed her in a hug, murmuring words of comfort while the woman cried on her shoulder before she even knew what she was doing. Her groceries were strewn all over the carpeted hallway, thankfully unharmed. Everything about her was unkempt and dirty.

After several moments of crying, her sobs had subsided to soft sniffles. Sage carefully extracted herself from the sobbing woman, body tingling at the prolonged touch. She helped the woman up, kind ~~but not pitying, never pitying,~~ smile on her face. “Here, let me grab those.” She stooped down and grabbed the groceries, ignoring the other woman’s protests. 

With a sigh, the blonde had opened her door, gesturing her to walk in, “Thank you, sorry about the mess. This is rather embarrassing, you’ve seen me crying twice now, and I still don’t know your name.”

Sage hid a sigh of relief. It had been six fucking months since she had met the blonde and she couldn’t fucking find out her name. Maybe now she could finally find out. “Sage. Sage Tran, you?”

“Jackie Tyler,” and Sage’s eyes widened, but Jackie didn’t seem to notice, grabbing the other bags. _Th_ _is_ was the Jackie Mickey had been talking about? She had been picturing someone closer to his age, an ex or a friend of Rose’s, not Rose’s mum. 

But it made sense. The blonde hair. Her face. The reason why Mickey was always banging on Jackie’s door. The _attitude_. And god, she felt _horrible._ Rose had been gone for nearly _half a year._ Her stomach dropped, and she cleared her throat. That wasn’t her fault. Rose made her choice. This wasn’t her fault. Maybe this was another Jackie Tyler.

Sage lifted up the bags, “Where’d you want these?”

“Oh just put them on the kitchen table, I’ll get around to them soon,” she waved off.

Sage moved in and set the bags on the ground. She stood there awkwardly, watching as Jackie puttered around her living room. She shifted her feet, absentmindedly chewing on her bottom lip. “Right, sorry ‘bout that!” Jackie exclaimed.

“No, s’alright,” Sage mumbled, and she looked closely at Jackie. She looked horrible, which made her stomach flip in guilt. There were dark eye bags etched underneath her eyes. Her hair, though properly maintained, seemed to lack a healthy glow to it. She took a deep breath in, trying for a smile. “Sorry, but do you want to talk about why you were crying outside your door in the middle of the day? Unless it was just the obvious dropping of groceries because that is a rather tragic tale.”

Jackie froze before maneuvering around Sage, “It was nothing. Just a bit overwhelmed, of course you'd know all ‘bout that.”

Sage stared at the woman’s back in confusion, “What do I know all about?”

Jackie scoffed, “As if you don't know.”

Sage furrowed her brows, small frown forming, “No I really don't. I've never really talked to anyone here.” Well beside Mickey, but she didn't think Jackie would take so kindly to that.

“Well if you must know, my daughter, Rose, is missing. She's been gone for half a year, and there's been no sign of her!”

Sage bit her lip, guilt forming. Okay, she was right. This was Rose’s mother, and she bit her bottom lip hard, stopping from spouting something stupid. She was probably half of the reason why Rose was ‘missing’ and it made her feel a bit queasy. This was her fault, if she didn't tell the Doctor to ask a second time then Jackie would still have her daughter. “Do you want comfort?” she asked stiffly. This she could do, probably. She could comfort her. Or if Jackie didn’t need any comforting, she would leave her alone. Find another way to support her. God knew how much she might need it.

Jackie turned around, her eyes wide, “What?”

“Like you said it's been half a year, and I'm sure you've had a bunch of people comfort you and the like,” Sage said. She handled Mickey, she could help Jackie.

“So I'm asking if you want me to placate you or if you just wanna push it out of your mind for a bit and watch films,” she ended. “I have a line of Disney movies queued up, if you want that.”

Jackie stared at her in disbelief, and Sage squirmed under the scrutiny. 

“I've dealt with this a lot since my little sister died,” she admitted quietly. Her locket burning underneath her shirt made her bring it out without a thought, tugging it lightly as she spoke. “Everyone always apologized, saying it was alright and that everything was gonna be okay.”

Sage let go of her locket and blew out, “I hated it, their sympathetic faces and pitying looks. They didn't know what I was going through, they didn't know anything.” Sage gave Jackie a wry smile, “So I thought you'd like to have a choice if you wanted me to say sorry and hug you some more or we could just watch some good old Disney movies.”

Jackie stared at her for a long time, searching for any lie before she nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah, I think the movies— that— that'd be nice.”

Sage smiled warmly, pushing her dark thoughts away, “That's great Jackie, are you more comfortable at my place or yours?” Ooh, it had been awhile since she had a Disney marathon. What would the two of them enjoy? She didn’t think Jackie would want to watch anything recent right now. Maybe something nostalgic? 

Jackie contemplated the decision, “Your place, if you don't mind. I don't wanna have many reminders of Rose right now.”

Sage nodded, accepting her decision. “Alright, I'll go and turn on the telly and just come right in, yeah? The door’ll be open.”

Jackie nodded, “I'll be over in a tick.”

Sage smiled slightly before giving a slight wave and leaving. She walked into her apartment and fell onto her couch face first with a small thud. Her glasses were digging into her face but she was too distraught to care. Sage groaned, “What did I get myself into?” she asked, muffled. 

Sage didn't get a reply which still surprised even after half a year without the TARDIS. She had gotten so used to the ship's replies that it felt odd when there wasn't any. She clenched her jaw, dark thoughts starting to spiral. Guilt forming and pointing fingers. 

Sage rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling before jumping up. She didn’t need a panic attack right now. She could freak out later. Jackie needed her. Her glasses were askew but she absentmindedly fixed them as she set the DVD player.

There was a knock on the door, “Come in, Jackie! Make sure you take off your shoes though.”

Jackie poked her head through before coming in, taking care to toe off her shoes, leaving her in her socks. “I brought some snacks!” she exclaimed. “Though I didn't know what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything.”

Sage smiled wearily as she saw the stacks of Tupperware in Jackie’s hands. Hunger wasn’t the thing gnawing at her stomach right now. She knew that Jackie’s concern was from the lack of Rose in her life, and Sage didn’t know if she wanted motherly concern right not.“That's great Jackie,” she said with a tired smile. “Thank you for the food, I don't really care what kind of food I eat, so long it's edible.”

Jackie smiled brightly, “Great, I've brought pretzels, popcorn and apples with peanut butter to dip in.”

Sage bit her bottom lip, heart racing at the thought of peanuts. “Oh actually I, um, I'm allergic to peanuts.” _Liar_ , _you just hate peanuts._ She shook it off, no one needed to know that. Sage couldn’t handle any judgement now. 

Jackie frowned, “Oh sorry about that, sweetheart.”

Sage hid her wince at her last word and Jackie continued, “I'll take that back to my flat, yeah? We'll make do with the popcorn and pretzels, yeah?” 

Sage nodded, “Yeah, sure. I've got Cinderella up and ready. Do you need help with the Tupperware?” The amount of plastic containers made her wonder if they would really finish that. And then wonder how long this would take.

“No it's alright, sweetheart. I'll just put it on your coffee table,” Jackie walked into the living room and did as she said.

Sage followed slowly, picking up the remote and unpausing it. The familiar Disney logo brought a smile to her lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She had been itching for relaxation for a while now, especially after lecturing her students. 

Jackie had already claimed her couch so she sat down on her La-z-boy, hugging a pillow to her chest. The two sat there silently, only moving when they wanted food or Sage had to change the film. They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of the day until their eyes grew heavy and the quiet singing of the princes and princesses lulled them to sleep.

* * *

_“Mickey, I’m serious! If you don’t leave, I’ll call the coppers on you!”_

“ _You’ve already tried that! The charges didn’t stick!”_

Sage’s eyes blew wide open, mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’ at that pronouncement. What kind of affairs was Mickey that he got arrested by the _police_? It was late too, nearly midnight, why was Mickey in front of Jackie's door?

" _Jackie, just hear me out, please?_ "and that made Sage pause. She hadn't heard that sort of tone from Mickey before, the sort of anguish coming from Mickey. It made her heart ache, fingers twitching to do something.

There was only quiet and Mickey sighed. Sage felt her heart go out for the twenty-three year old man (because she did finally get to ask after many sessions of cooking later) and she was regretting getting in between the two. 

But c'est la vie or whatever the French said. With a glance at the clock, she nodded. It wasn't too late nor was it too early. Grabbing a bottle of cider ~~because she was never going to touch alcohol again, not even with a ten foot pole~~ , she hurried to the door, hoping that Mickey hadn't gone already.

"Sage?" And she was happy that she had caught him just in time, Mickey on the verge of leaving to his own flat. Mickey quirked a brow at her, "What are you doing with champagne and a blanket?"

“Picnic! C’mon!” Sage beckoned for him to follow her, tugging when it seemed like he didn’t understand. “It’s dark. But it's a clear night. We'll have the roof to look at the stars and a little bit of bubbly." No need to tell him it wasn't champagne. Maybe the placebo effect would work and he would get drunk as well. Somehow. 

Her excitement made Mickey soften, a smile overtaking his face. He chuckled, following along with her insistent tugging, "Alright, alright. Let's go look at the stars."

Sage could only crow in victory, pulling him up toward the roof. The chill immediately set in, and Sage shivered but she was on a mission. Mickey was beating himself up because Jackie didn’t trust him anymore. His surrogate mother basically kicked him out because he lost touch with her real, biological daughter. Talk about a messed up life. 

“Okay, we’re up on the roof, Sage,” Mickey said, spreading his arms wide to indicate the vastness of the roof. He raised a brow as Sage spread a thick blue picnic blanket down on the concrete. “Now tell what you’re really doing and why I’m here.”

Sage rolled her eyes, gesturing to the blanket. “What’d you think we’re doing? I told you we’re having a picnic.”

“You don’t have a basket or food. Just a bottle of champagne.”

“Not champagne,” Sage corrected, deciding to come clean. “Can’t drink alcohol, nor do I want to. So it’s just sparkling cider, sorry if you wanted to get pissed.”

“Probably for the best, really,” Mickey sighed, settling down on the blanket. “Me and my mates have been going to the pub every other day now. They thought that’d get my head back.”

“Did it?” She opened the bottle, pouring out two glasses. Handing one over to Mickey, she wasn’t too surprised when he guzzled it down like it was alcohol. She sat down rather heavily next to him, the chill of the air washing over her and the warmth from Mickey next to her an odd paradox of temperatures.

He shook his head, “Only got me plastered, really. Man, is it me or is apple cider actually really good?” He held out his glass for another and she laughed, pouring him one again. 

“It’s just you. Though I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’ve basically had half the bottle by now.” She raised the bottle, shaking it a little, and Mickey looked somewhat surprised by the near emptiness of the bottle.

“Guess I need alcohol after all,” Mickey said quietly, looking at the rim of his champagne glass. 

Sage scoffed, “No, no you do not need more alcohol, Mickey.” She nursed her glass, looking at the golden crystal liquid swirl around idly. She waited. She didn’t really know what she was waiting for, Mickey to speak up or the sun to rise, whichever. But she reveled in the quiet for a bit, and looking at the twinkling of the stars made her heart ache with memories she wished she could forget sometimes.

Mickey broke first, eyes averting. “Why are you doing this? Really, Sage, why?” 

She took a deep breath. “Because you needed it. And I was pretty sure Jackie would’ve called the cops if you didn’t leave. It was just a friend helping out a friend. And Mickey, you need a friend.”

“I’ve got plenty,” Mickey said shortly.

“Do you?”

“Harsh, Sage. Who do you think is taking me to all the pubs and getting me drinks?”

“It’s for your pity party. Besides, who doesn’t like getting plastered. I may not drink alcohol, but I wish there was a drink that could make me happy like booze does for people.”

“Rude but true…. Nice night, huh." Sage stared up at the night sky, the twinkling lights smiling down at the two of them. Truth be told, Sage had no idea what she was doing. She hadn't planned on getting involved between Mickey and Jackie. She hadn't wanted to further involve herself in other affairs. 

But Mickey had been so defeated that night, and Sage was only reminded of her baby brother, Mattie, when his first girlfriend broke up with him over text. Her locket burned underneath her shirt, and she steadfastly ignored it. Tonight was about Mickey. _Not_ her family problems.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Sage said and smiled at Mickey. "You know, Mickey, you're a good friend. I hope you know that."

Mickey looked at her with a slightly desperate expression before his lips crashed on hers. ~~And there was a moment where Sage panicked, thinking it was _him_ again. He was here, forcing _himself_ on her again. No. Stop. Breathe. It was only Mickey. _He_ wasn't here anymore. Mickey was her friend. Breathe. Mickey was confused. Breathe. She needed to think about Mickey. He was hurting and he needed her help. _Breathe._~~ Sage couldn’t say she was one hundred percent surprised. Maybe fifty. She didn’t respond to Mickey’s desperate movements, and he broke away harshly, gasping and out of breath. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Mickey, I'm fine.” She reached out to try and console him, but he recoiled back as if burned and she dropped her hand. ~~Her heart ached, and dark memories rushed back before she shoved them away again. Breathe.~~

“No— no, I’ve gotta—” He started to scramble away, and Sage had enough. The night was full of tension and anxiety, and Sage wanted back the easy relationship they had before.

“Stay, Mickey, I told you _it’s okay_ ,” she yanked him back down, Mickey stumbling as he fell to his feet. “You don’t like me like that, Mickey.”

“How do you know how I feel?”

“Because you still love Rose, and I was convenient,” Sage hid away the hurt in her heart, burying it deep. Because Mickey needed her right now. And she would be damned to turn him away when she could help him. “You’re projecting your hurt and love on to me because Rose isn’t here. You think I don’t know you still love her? You talk about her constantly. Your eyes hold so much hurt in them. You _miss_ her, and you want her back. And when I showed you some affection and attention, you latched on. Because you’re _hurting._ ”

Mickey choked, head facing forward and unable to say anything. And Sage didn’t push. She had already ripped him open so much, she could leave him to think over his life in quietness. It had been such a huge risk, and she hadn’t really thought that it would go this far, but it had and she couldn’t change it. She could only hope that Mickey didn’t hate her now. 

Biting her bottom lip, she gazed up at the stars. It was a little like she was back home with her siblings again. And she closed her eyes, the unbidden memories coming back but not so unwanted right now. Mickey was so much like her baby brother, and she wondered if Mattie was doing alright.

“You’re right.” Mickey’s voice was lower than a whisper, as if unwilling to break the silence.

“I usually am, so thank you for admitting it.” She sighed, turning to face him, “Look, you’re not a bad person. Don’t beat yourself up for this.”

“But I for—”

“You did, but you stopped when I didn’t respond,” she interrupted, and Mickey shut his mouth with a clack. “And you apologized, which was the right thing to do. Probably should’ve asked first, but I forgive you because you’re a bit confused and you apologized and because you _stopped_.”

“Why— why are you so nice?” Mickey asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sage tilted her head, contemplating that. “I choose to,” she said after a while. “The world is often not kind, so I try to be kind to those who need it.”

“You’re odd.”

“And yet we’re still friends,” Sage pointed out.

“Still friends?” And his voice was slightly trembling, as if something this trivial could break their friendship. Mickey was young. If he and Rose didn’t work out and Sage had a small feeling that it wouldn’t. She was still rooting for them though he would figure it out. Mickey was smart, and life was long. 

Sage gave him a gentle smile, “Still friends,” she confirmed. “But maybe see a therapist? I know a few if you need some recommendations.”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe, alright,” he nodded as he said that. “I’m sorry again though Sage, you’re a great friend.”

Sage bumped shoulders with Mickey, smiling. “Always, Mick, you’re basically another little brother. So don’t be stupid and ask first okay, you horny bastard.”

He shoved her with a laugh, “Shut up!” and Sage grinned at his free and happy laugh. They were going to be fine. Mickey was going to be fine. Shoving back at Mickey as she continued to tease him, Sage felt like she had another family again. 

And she was going to make damn sure she wasn’t going to lose this one.

* * *

"Okay, okay, okay, Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt?"

"Johnny Depp without a doubt."

"What? I'd've thought you would've chosen Brad Pitt," Jackie shook her head, handing Sage a spoon.

"I've never really seen the appeal in Brad Pitt," Sage said, laughing slightly at Jackie's scandalized face. "I don't! There's nothing really attractive about him to me, but Johnny Depp? Have you seen his performance in Pirates? Talk about brilliance."

Jackie scoffed lightly, "Are you kidding me? We're talking about looks here, Sage, not the acting."

Sage stirred her tea with a thoughtful expression, “But that’s the reason why they’re so famous. They wouldn’t have gotten so far as they did without at least some sort of talent.”

“The only talent that they have are those bodies,” Jackie said with a smirk, waggling her eyebrows. 

“Ugh, gross, Jackie,” Sage groaned with a laugh.

“What?” Jackie said, “They’re my age. It’s only right to appreciate fine men like them. Besides, what's the harm in indulging a little fantasy?” She picked up the cookie tin only to come up empty, frowning, “We’ve run out of biscuits.”

“Oh,” Sage put down her tea and saucer. “I’ll run down to Tesco if you want me to.”

“Oh, that’s not—”

But Sage was already getting up to put on her shoes. “I need to get some groceries anyway, Jackie. It’ll be fine. I’ll be back ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jackie said with a slight frown. Standing up to lead her to the door, “I’ll pay you back for this.”

“Oh, no Jackie, that’s okay. It’s just a tin of cookies.” Sage threw on her jacket, “It’s what, five pounds at most? You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Don’t argue with me here, Sage. I’m going to pay you back whether you like it or not.” Jackie pointed a stern finger at Sage’s face with a slightly threatening motion, and Sage laughed.

“Just think of it as paying you back for all those pretzels I ate during movie Fridays.” She patted Jackie’s shoulder with a smile. This entire matter was making Sage squirm in discomfort, she needed to get out of here and buy the cookies quickly. Otherwise, who knew what Jackie was going to do next in some odd attempt at repayment. 

“Sage, that was months ago. And besides, you provide the movies and the room. I think that’s more than enough.” Jackie gave her a slightly disapproving look, and Sage’s will dissipated. It had to be because of the fear of disappointing Jackie that she backed down, and she nodded begrudgingly.

“Okay, what about next time you make me shepherd’s pie?” Sage tried again, pleading. “I’ve always wanted to try it.” _Homemade_ , she silently added. She wasn’t one to shy away from the fact that she bought a premade one and just plopped it into the oven to eat. “Yours especially, I remember when Rodrigo needed a meal and you whipped that up lickety split.”

Jackie blushed and laughed, “Lickety split? I honestly don’t know what you say half the time, Sage. Fine, if that’s what it takes. My shepherd's pie is brilliant after all. So much that Rodrigo owes me a favour now.”

Sage grinned, waving goodbye and a small thanks. Their relationship was close enough that her coming over was common. Jackie had even shoved the key into her hand saying, “Can't just keep opening the door every time you wanna come in. What happens if I'm busy?”

Sage had smiled so widely and hugged Jackie tight as she could. The feeling of being wanted filling a part of her aching heart. Jackie had become the mother Sage had lost and Sage the daughter. Sage, though, had struggled with the guilt of knowing Rose's whereabouts. 

Walking down to the sidewalk, she rubbed her chest, feeling an odd twinge. She kicked a pebble and thought over her relationship with Jackie. It had been over a year since Sage had last seen the Doctor. She didn't know whether or not to tell Jackie that Rose was with a time travelling alien who was hundreds of years old.

The whole thing was so far fetched that Jackie would either laugh or accuse her of thinking the situation was funny. Should she tell Jackie? The guilt had been nearly eating her alive ever since the first day she met her, but the story was so outlandish Sage was sure Jackie wouldn't believe her.

Every moment she spent with Jackie felt so natural. So fun. It had honestly been the best few months she had spent. Her sleeping schedule was still fucked, but Jackie (and Mickey) made it rather… fun to go outside rather than stay in and sob at student essays. 

Sage didn't want to ruin her relationship with Jackie. It felt so nice to have a mother who didn't constantly hate her. Yet Jackie wasn't her mother, she was Rose's. And as much as she'd like to have a mother again, Jackie Tyler already had a daughter.

“Besides,” she said under her breath, “Sooner or later not telling her would only end up biting you in the ass. It always happens. And what’s worse, you idiot. You kept it from her for a _year_. You really think you and Jackie are going to recover from this? You wish, _idiot._ ”

Sage sighed before swiping a tin of cookies from a shelf, barely paying attention to the cashier as she left a few bills to pay and started her trek back to the flat. Maybe she would be placated with the cookies. Everyone liked cookies.

Oh, but this was already for Jackie. She cursed, just how in the world would she fix their relationship? Hand on the railing, Sage nearly tripped on a step as she reached their floor. She shook her head, trying to dispel her anxieties from her head. Jackie would understand. She would. She _had to_. ~~Please believe her, Jackie, she couldn’t lose another mother. Not again. Not the same way.~~

Sage took in a deep breath. This was for Jackie. She needed to know, and it was horrible of Sage to be so selfish to still keep this from her. Jackie had been under so much stress already. Her job. Rose being “missing”. Bev. Talking to the cops to see if there had been anything about Rose.

Jackie had actively avoided talking about Rose to Sage since they met (the groceries instance, not the ones before). And Sage had seen how dreadful she looked, how exhausted. And she hadn’t wanted to burden Jackie with any more worries. But had that really been the best decision? She didn’t know. But she would soon find out.

The door in front of her daunted her. Stomach rolling in guilt and anxiety. She bit down and tasted blood. Great, she bit her lip bloody again. Taking a deep breath in and running a hand through her hair, she steeled herself, “Jackie, I’ve got the—”

“Prove it! Stitch this mate!” came Jackie’s loud voice and a loud slap followed. Sage looked up, eyes wide. She took in the scene before her, Rose sitting in a chair and a policeman across her.

The Doctor was standing in the middle of the two and Jackie was in front of him. Her chest was heaving in anger and the Doctor had a hand up to cover his red cheek.

When the others finally noticed her, she let out a quiet ‘meep’ at their stares, dropping the tin of cookies with a quiet clang and fled up to the roof, barely remembering to close the door behind her.

She ran up the stairs toward the roof, not feeling the small pebbles that she stepped on. Sage pushed open the doors and sped towards the wall. She immediately jumped onto the wall, sat down and drew her knees toward her chest. “What the actual fuck?”

She didn’t need this now. She couldn’t handle the Doctor, especially not when he looked at her with those blue, blue eyes. It may have only a year since she last saw him, but their last encounter was still fresh in her mind. And how in the world did the police come so quickly? She had taken barely ten minutes. What was _happening_ today?

And what else? She had been on the verge of telling Jackie where Rose was, this negated every ounce of confidence she had built up on the way home to tell Jackie about the Doctor and Rose. She had been preparing herself for incredulous stares. Scoffs. Disbelief. Even a rip in their relationship. 

But the Doctor came crashing in, and holy _shit_. The Doctor was _back_. 

She looked up at the sky, dumbfounded. “ _Fuck_ my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I did not mean for this to take a month. But this chapter is an AO3 exclusive, y'all. This added a lot of character development to Sage, I think.
> 
> I hoped you all enjoyed! Please leave a comment on what you liked or disliked below and I will see you all next chapter!


	5. Aliens of London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't exactly how Sage thought her day was going to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heelys in with starbucks and sunglasses one month later* what up bishes

She immediately jumped onto the wall, sat down and drew her knees toward her chest. “What the actual fuck?”

When did that happen? When had the Doctor come back? Why did she run away from their stares? It wasn't as if she had murdered Rose. 

_But you kept quiet about knowing the Doctor_ , a voice hissed at her. _That’s basically the same thing as leaving her for dead._

 _I was gonna tell her about it today,_ she silently argued back.

_It still took you weeks to get here, to talk to her, to accept her. Now that Rose is back, she won't need you. She won't need a stand in daughter when she has her own back._

“Oh, fuck you,” she sighed. “I don’t need this right now. The Doctor’s back. What does that mean for _me_?”

 _Selfish._ The voice hissed at her, but years of that poison made her able to easily ignore it.

Biting her bottom lip, she untangled her mess of a ponytail. Combing her fingers through her hair, she slowly redid it into a messy side braid as she though over her options. The Doctor was here. Great. Wonderful. But what did that _mean_?

“Nothing, that’s what,” Sage muttered, tying her hair to keep it in place. “He’s just here for Rose to visit, and that’s it. Don’t think that he’s here for you, Sage. Don’t be an idiot.”

And there was a pain in her heart that she couldn’t figure out if it was guilt or envy. Sage wasn’t a malicious person. She enjoyed her lot in life. She had great kids to teach. She enjoyed her job. She had friends now. Even if they were technically Rose’s in the first place. ~~And wasn’t that just a bit ridiculous? They were their own people. Rose couldn’t own them or tell them to do anything. God, why did she feel so guilty?~~

“Oh!” she hit the side of her head. “The TARDIS, shit. Was she going to force me on the ship? No. She can’t, it’s spring holiday. I told her that I would go only when I was finished with school. She can’t kidnap me. Right?” Sage shook her head. This wasn’t the time for that. 

Sage enjoyed her life. And the Doctor wasn’t going to rush in and make her change her mind because of a few temptations of history and time travel and space. No. Her life was fine, thank you very much. And no alien was going to take her away from her friends.

“But why did the Doctor come a year late? What could be happening today?”

Conveniently (or maybe a little inconveniently) a spaceship narrowly missed her head as it fell from the sky and headed for Central London, and she violently fell back in surprise. It smashed into Big Ben, then landed with a splash in the Thames.

Sage’s hand was over her chest, her heart rabbiting in her chest. She breathed heavily and jumped off the wall. Taking a deep breath, she frowned at what she just saw, “That… that was weird. That was weird, right? Ugh, stop talking to yourself, Sage. But… but it was a little _too_ perfect. Too loud and over the top. _Especially_ when the Doctor just arrived.” She headed to the edge, hands gripping the top as she glanced down at the busy streets of London. 

In the middle of the street everything was chaotic. Cars were rushing by and cameras were flashing off as they tried to catch evidence of the aliens. Policemen were ushering civilians away from the streets and alarms were loudly going off.

“Whole of London’s on lockdown, can't do anything about it,” Sage mused. She tugged the tail of her braid. “High alert. Means I can’t steal the TARDIS. A blue phone box appearing out of nowhere would immediately get their attention.”

Her heart was still pounding, in fear? In curiosity? She didn’t know. “I’ll have to do what everyone else’s doing. Watch it on the telly.” Rushing down the stairs toward her flat, Sage felt a grin cross her face. This could be the time where aliens and humans meet! This was the event of the ceremony! She let out a squeal of excitement, swinging open the door and nearly running into someone on the stairwell before darting out at the last second.

“Sorry!” She shouted behind her shoulder. Normally she would stop and make sure the person was alright. Normally she would have apologies falling from her lips and making a nuisance of herself. But this wasn’t normal. Aliens were here! Actual aliens! On Earth! And she wanted to know why. 

(The person Sage almost ran into was the Doctor, who looked at her running figure with surprise. But she didn’t need to know _that_.)

There were loud murmurs on the other side of Jackie's door. Sage resolutely did not look at the door. No need to put her foot in her mouth and come over and make a fool of herself. It was rather loud and crowded. With how the Doctor tried to keep a low profile, he wouldn't like that. Maybe she should invite him over, but... she only met the Doctor a few times before. He probably wouldn't like her to assume that she knew what he wanted.

Sighing, Sage ambled into her living room, turning on the television to the news channel. Hopefully, with all this panic she hadn’t missed anything important. Cranking up the volume, she wandered into her bathroom, putting in her contacts. Something told her she would need them.

A news reader was speaking, “Big Ben destroyed as a UFO crash lands in Central London. Police reinforcements are drafted in from across the country to control widespread panic, looting and civil disturbance. A state of national emergency has been declared. Tom Hutchinson is at the scene.”

The scene switched over to a reporter in front of Ten Downing Street, “The police urge the public not to panic. There's a helpline number on screen right now if you're worried about friends or family.”

“So, this is gonna probably turn into an international situation. They're going to gather all the experts for this,” Sage said, brain working a mile a minute. “Great, that’s great. The experts are going to handle this, and they’re going to fix this. All of them….”

Sage frowned, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. Why would the ship hit Big Ben? With a little research, anyone could figure out that that clock was one of the biggest monuments to England. It was popular and well-known. Sage was sure that it would still be famous in the future too.

So why would the aliens hit somewhere so big and gaudy and conspicuous? If they were peaceful, they probably wouldn’t have even crashed like that. It was too surreal. Too loud. Too… distracting.

“Distracting…. God, is it a distraction? But what could they be distracting us from? A distraction from something… something bigger?” Sage rubbed her forehead. Was it bait? It could be a classic bait and switch. But switch what? What was the bigger reason? Why would aliens want the entire world on red alert?

Total domination? The most likely case, of course. But, _Jesus,_ what was so special about Earth? About London? This is the second time London has been under attack (that she knew of, if the Doctor was any indication, London seemed to be under attack rather often). Honestly, what was up with aliens and London?

“Why would aliens put the world on red alert and gather all the alien experts here? What good would that do for them? Well, it would put them all under one roof. It’d be easy to kill them if… Wait…. Ah, shit.” Shit, shit, shit. Really? Did her cynicism need to come out and make logical sense right now? She really didn’t need that.

“Oh, god. What if I’m right? Argh, but what would they gain from killing all the experts? Wait, they’re meeting at Ten Downing Street. The place where all the politics happen. The place where the Prime Minister could be. Oh— oh my god, are they going to kill the prime minister?” she wheezed.

She was going to have another damn panic attack if she kept up with this train of thought, but the darkness swirled out of reach as her thoughts continued to haunt her until she finished. 

"Okay, okay, okay. Pros and cons of killing the prime minister. Pro: control of a powerful government and— and holy shit _weapons._ They get weapons!" Sage's mind whirled, thoughts coming faster than fucking Superman. "Weapons meaning bombs. Weapons meaning _nuclear_ bombs!" 

Sage was going to run out of air if she was going to keep thinking. But she pushed through it because she needed to stay _calm_.

"Okay. Okay okay okay. _Okay_." Sage took in a shuddering breath, trying to calm the rapid beating in her chest. "Bombs. Bombs mean war.” Her heart sped up, and she took in a shuddering breath. “Let’s not think about _that_ right now. How? Better thing to think about. _How_ did they get here?”

“The easiest possible way, and wow that’s a shock to say, would be infiltration.” Sage thought over the many spies in history, the methods of espionage that they used. Double agents, informants, coders. “If they’re doing it now, they must’ve been here for awhile at least.”

There was a knock at her door, and Sage startled but shook it off. “It’s probably Mickey. God knows what Jackie was doing now, he must want some peace and quiet.” She opened the door.

It was not Mickey.

The Doctor greeted her with a cheeky grin, fist still raised in knocking formation before he laid it down, barging into her house with a nosy look in his eyes. Sage stood in surprise, closing the door then following him in a daze.

“Cosy little place you’ve got here,” he commented, picking up a book and flipping through it. He made a little noise in the back of his throat. “Interesting choice. You’re absolutely going to hate the tenth book.”

Sage unfroze, thoughts still racing. “Tenth?” she croaked out, mind still reeling at seeing the Doctor again after so long. Properly this time, she meant. That time little stint at Jackie’s flat wasn’t really a proper reunion.

He hummed, clicking his tongue, “Well, depends on how you see it, o’ course. But well, that’d just spoil everything, wouldn’t it?” There was a wide and shameless smirk on his face that made Sage narrow her eyes, frowning.

The Doctor seemed taken aback at her reaction, but right now she didn’t care. Her eyes wandered down to his feet, frown deepening as she saw the boots still on. This time she was the one who clicked her tongue, “Oi, can you please take off your boots. They’re not allowed in my house.”

“I- right, right.” He bent down, unlacing them automatically before tossing them toward the foot of her door. Sage sighed but didn’t say anything, bustling over to her kitchen to pull out her kettle.

“Tea?”

“Two spoons, ta,” he settled on one of her bar stools, seeming to be fine watching her scramble around in her little kitchen. Sage didn’t know what to think, only focusing instead on the task at hand.

Was there a reason why he was here? Sure, he had taken her on one adventure and she had taken care of him that one night but that was the extent of their relationship, if one could even call it that. They were acquaintances, that was it. She took care of him in his time of need, and he took her on two adventures. ~~Well, if you could call the one with the Autons an adventure, it was more like visiting the London Eye and then she got a massive migraine~~.

Pulling out two mugs, she put in the tea bags. Then poured out the hot water. Letting the tea steep, she sneaked a glance over at the Doctor, who had turned on her television and was flipping through all the news channels.

She tilted her head, looking at him closer. His hands were fidgety, toes wiggling and other foot tapping somehow at the same time. How, she had no idea. But he was restless nonetheless. Why was he here and not checking out the scene of the crime? The Doctor glanced out the window, then back at her telly, eyes intently watching the news, taking in every bit of information he could. 

Sage pursed her lips, turning back to the two mugs and bobbing the little tea bags for a bit before tossing them out. She could hear murmurs from across the hall, seemed Jackie was busy, she would have to check that out soon. But not now, the Doctor was getting restless. Hopefully, he would leave sooner than later.

“How have you been, Doctor?” Sage brought him his mug, trying for a nonchalant smile. No need to have him running off before she could interrogate him a little. This entire debacle was probably somehow his fault, or at least he knew something about it. “Where have you been? Or should I say when?”

The Doctor only gave her a cheeky smile, leaning forward as if he was about to reveal a few secrets. “Been about. Met Charles Dickens, fought some ghosts.”

“You met Charles Dickens!” She could feel the familiar tendrils of envy envelop her. Her eyes wide and shoving down the dark feeling, “What was he like?”

“Bit of a bore, really,” he said dismissively, leaning back, as if it was common to meet long dead authors. And maybe for him it was. “Rather pretentious, he was. Wordy, mouthy. But well, considering his books, suppose it makes sense. Sort of a stick in the mud if you ask me.”

“Really?” she asked, deflating a bit. And yeah, Sage could see where that could come about. He hadn’t seemed to be that sympathetic to Andersen’s plight but well, if someone freeloaded off her and just cried into the dirt everyday who would?

“Hmm,” the Doctor hummed, taking a sip of his tea. “You would know if you had gone with us.”

“Oh,” Sage tittered with a nervous laugh, wondering if that was supposed to be a jab at her technical refusal of his invitation. “Suppose you’re right, but well my life is rather enough for me as is.”

The Doctor eyed her, appraising her up and down, and she tried to not to fidget under his gaze. It was less than a second, but it still made her want to squirm. The Doctor gave her a blinding smile, draining the last of his tea. S ~~he wanted to ask why he was here. Why wasn't he at Jackie's flat? Why wasn't he with Rose? Why was he here with her? Were the noises and people too much? Was she his second choice? Was he only here because he didn't want to talk to the so-called apes he liked to insult? If she was his second choice, why not give him a key so that she could be his first choice? After all, he definitely wasn't going to willingly spend time with Jackie after being smacked in the face by her.~~

“Well, then,” the Doctor said after a little comfortable silence, interrupting her deep and inner turmoil, “suppose I’ll be going then.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, speaking before she could stop herself, “Checking out that crash then?”

His eyes glinted, sharpening as he looked at her, blue dancing with mischief, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Typical of you, Doctor,” Sage commented, taking that as confirmation. She took his mug, completely missing his look of surprise and furrowed brow. She went to his side of the counter, turning off the TV and the Doctor followed her, “Well, it was rather nice to see you, Doctor, take care. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“Trouble usually finds me,” he grinned, eyes expectant.

“Must be the face,” she deadpanned as the Doctor sputtered in protest. She smiled, subtly herding him toward the door, waving him off, “Have fun, and remember to close the door on your way out.”

And the Doctor, surprised for the first time in quite a while, found himself outside the flat with his boots in his arms.

* * *

The Doctor was disappointed that Sage didn’t seem all that happy to see him. She had been friendly, of course. But that was it. Common courtesy and nothing else. 

Distant and nice. 

What could’ve changed in a year that made her like that? Had something happened that changed her? ~~(~~ ~~Did he even know her that well to begin with? Did he even know who she really was? Her likes and dislikes? Who was he to say that she changed? He didn’t know her. But, by Rassilon, did he want to.)~~

Well. He, more than many, knew how much time can change a person. 

A door opened, and ~~(~~ ~~the Doctor’s hearts beat in his chest, hoping that it was Sage. That vexing woman, she was a puzzle. And oh he wanted to solve her. There was just something about her that made the Doctor so curious.)~~ the Doctor waited to see who it was, continuing to tie the laces of his boots.

“And where are you going?” someone else asked.

The Doctor straightened, looking at Rose. She had a pinched look on her face and her arms were crossed. “For a bit of a wander,” he lied. Wouldn’t be any good to frighten his companion, she just reunited with her mother after all. 

Rose had an eyebrow raised as she scoffed, “A ‘wander’. Right. There's a spaceship on the Thames and you're just ‘wandering’.”

“Nothing to do with me!” He said cheerily. He could feel the anticipation racing through his blood, excitement coursing through his veins. “It's not an invasion! That was a genuine crash landing. Angle of descent, colour of smoke, everything! It's perfect!” the Doctor exclaimed, the oddness of Sage fading away in the face of another adventure.

“So…” Rose started, brows furrowing. And the Doctor smiled kindly at her, proud at her curiosity.

“So maybe this is it! First contact! The day mankind officially comes into contact with an alien race. I'm not interfering because you've GOT to handle this on your own. That's when the human race finally grows up. Just this morning you were all tiny and small and made of clay! Now you can expand!” the Doctor laughed in delight.

Rose smiled, her earlier anger forgotten, “Promise you won't disappear?”

And there was weight in that statement that the Doctor didn’t want to think about. He felt and saw the hidden depths of Rose that many didn’t seem to see in her, and he felt a certain kinship with that little lost girl who asked questions.

She was a special one, she was. And the Doctor couldn’t wait to see the fantastic things she would do. _Fantastic_. That was a good word. He rather liked it. He would help Rose Tyler reach her potential, shine her, polish her, and let her flourish in prosperity. ~~(~~ ~~But remember, don’t let her too close. You’ll kill her otherwise, you lonely old man. Need to surround yourself in youth to remind you of the glory days or something? Don’t let her get close to you or you _will_ kill her.) ~~

The Doctor felt around in his pockets before pulling something out triumphantly, “Tell you what, TARDIS key,” he handed it to her. “About time you had one,” he grinned. “See you later!”

The Doctor walked away, knowing that Rose would be too stunned at getting a TARDIS key so he took his chance to leave, so…. 

He left her behind.

* * *

Sage sat on Jackie's couch, grimacing at the loud noise. Jackie's door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. Mickey stood in the doorway, and the noise died down. His eyes zeroed in on Rose who was sitting on an armchair on the other side of the room.

Rose looked up at the sudden quiet and sat up quickly. “I was gonna come and see you,” she defended weakly.

A woman tsked, looking between the three with eyes like a vulture, ready for gossip. “Someone owes Mickey an apology.”

Rose immediately started to apologize, “I'm sorry.”

“Not you.” Rose looked at her mother in confusion.

Jackie immediately put up a defensive front, “It's not my fault. Be fair. What was I supposed to think?” and went toward the kitchen.

Sage sat awkwardly, looking down, and bit her bottom lip. Was this her fault? ~~No, brain shut up this wasn’t what Sage needed right now.~~ Sage looked at the two of them in concern.

The two stared at each other until Mickey led the way to the kitchen, Rose following close behind.

Sage stared at their retreating figures, wondering if she should follow. Before she could make a decision, Rose ran out of the flat with Mickey hot on her heels. Frowning, Sage stood up just as Jackie walked in, and she made a quick escape. She slipped out the door and down toward where the pair was walking, standing next to Mickey as she tried to figure out what was happening.

Mickey and Rose were in front of her, bickering loudly. Sage could feel the oncoming headache forming at the pair in front of her.

“He wouldn't just go, he promised me,” Rose said disbelievingly as she stared at where the TARDIS had presumably stood. And oh boy, did Rose not see that the Doctor didn’t like talking nice? He wasn’t a deserter, but that didn’t mean that he would’ve abandoned her. Really, Sage was feeling rather offended on the Doctor’s behalf. But— Sage shouldn’t say anything. Rose seemed more shocked than accusing. 

Mickey scoffed, “Oh, he's dumped you, Rose. Sailed off into space. How does it feel, huh? Now you are left behind with the rest of us Earthlings. Get used to it.”

Rose stared, “But he would've said.”

Mickey laughed, “He's vamoosed!”

Rose flushed and stomped her foot, crossing her arms. Her eyes seemed to be lit with anger and she spun, spitting at him, “He's not!”

Jackie appeared to the right of Sage, “What's happening?” Sage jumped in surprise. “What're you two chimps standin’ in an empty lot for?”

Rose and Mickey turned to look at Jackie and Rose raised her hand in aggravation, “He gave me this!” and brandished the key. “Why'd he give me this if he's just gone and vanished? He's not my boyfriend, Mickey, he's better than that. He's much more important than…” she trailed off.

The familiar wheezing sound came into focus. They got louder and louder until they finally came into view.

Rose stared triumphantly at them all, faltering slightly at Sage. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but the victory was too great not to gloat, “I said so.”

Then she noticed her mother and started urging her away. Jackie stared at the TARDIS in wonder. “Now how'd you go and do that?” she said softly.

Sage touched Jackie’s shoulder in concern, asking her silently if she was alright. Jackie gave Sage a small smile of wonder and wary, looking between the TARDIS and Rose in askance.

Sage shook her head, giving Jackie a small smile of reassurance before she sidestepped away from the three and headed for the TARDIS doors. She caressed the lock and it clicked open. The warm, coral glow brought a small smile to her lips as she stepped in. She left the door open for the others as she walked toward the jumpseat. 

The jumpseat was closer to the doors than before, she noted, but pushed the thought out of her mind. The Doctor didn't seem to notice as she did so, continuing to mutter to himself as he stared at the monitor.

Rose stepped into the box and Jackie and Mickey followed quickly. Jackie stared at her surroundings in amazement while Mickey stared at the Doctor in disdain.

Rose coughed loudly to get the Doctor’s attention and he turned around, “Alright, so I lied! I went and had a look, but the whole crash landing's a fake, I thought so, it's just too perfect. I mean, ‘hitting Big Ben’ come on, so I thought let's go and have a look…”

“My mum's here,” Rose said in lieu of any other response.

The Doctor looked over her shoulder to see Jackie gazing around the ship. He groaned, “Oh, that's just what I need. Don't you dare make this place domestic!” he pointed a finger at Rose. ~~And that made the key in Sage's pocket feel heavy because that was a clear indication that he did not do domestic so why would he want a key to her flat? Why would he care? Why does she?~~

Jackie ran out of the TARDIS, clearly overwhelmed. Rose ran after her, shouting “Don't start a fight!” Sage hesitated, not wanting to get in between mother and daughter but also wanting to help reassure her friend/mother figure. She didn't follow.

There was a palpable tension in the little ship, and Sage could only look at Mickey whose face was darkening as he stared at the Doctor with venom on his young face. Mickey spoke up, “You ruined my life, Doctor.”

The Doctor neatly spun around to face Mickey who continued, “They thought she was dead. I was a murder suspect because of you.”

Sage bit her lip in guilt. Maybe she should've gone and convinced Jackie to drop the accusations. She could've made them reconcile or something. Her heart _ached_. Sage breathed out deeply. What was done was done, no need to worry about it anymore.

“I bet you don't even remember my name! Or even hers!” Mickey shouted. And he pointed at Sage, whose eyes widened. She hurriedly shook her head, not wanting to be brought into the middle of the fight.

The Doctor ignored his last words and went back to the monitor, “It's Ricky,” he said simply.

“It's Mickey!”

The Doctor turned back around, “No, it's Ricky.” he said stubbornly.

Sage stood up with a sigh. She gently placed a hand on the Doctor’s arm and he automatically looked down at her. She looked up, silently cursing him for the height difference. She was going to get a crick in her neck with this height of his. “Doctor. Alien invasion, remember?”

His eyes lit up and he went back to the monitor, typing. It was as if he had forgotten that Mickey was there again. Mickey was big enough to admit that that rejection hurt. He just wanted the Doctor to apologize for making the past year slightly miserable.

Sage rolled her eyes before going over to Mickey, “Sorry he's an idiot, Micks. You don't deserve to be shoved aside like that,” she said. “Give him hell if he fucks with you," she bumped shoulders with him before going back to the Doctor.

Mickey grinned, happy that his friend defended him. Then he tilted his head at the scene before him. Perhaps he was wrong about Rose and the Doctor. 

Sage and the Doctor stood together, and they seemed so in sync. The two were comfortable by each other's side, Sage on his left and the Doctor on her right. Sage pointed at something on the screen and the Doctor had responded easily, not looking annoyed like he had before with Rose, him and Jackie.

As the two continued to converse quietly to each other, Mickey almost felt as if he was intruding on a private moment.

Rose walked in just then, and headed to the other side of the Doctor's. “That was a real spaceship?” she asked, making the Doctor tense slightly in surprise. Sage’s hand wavered above the Doctor’s elbow before she hesitantly placed a hand on him, squeezing it in comfort before immediately letting go. Mickey's eyes narrowed at that, suspicious.

The Doctor turned to Rose, “Yep!”

“So, it's all a pack of lies? What is it then, are they invading?” she asked aloud.

Mickey peeked over their shoulders. “Funny way to invade," he chipped in his own two cents, "putting the world on red alert.”

“Good point!” the Doctor said, impressed. “So, what're they up to?”

Sage hummed, legs kicking as she settled into the jumpseat. “They're not invading.”

The three turned to look at her, but she was staring intently at her hands. “I mean, probably.”

“What'd you mean? O’ course they're invading. They had a ship crash into the Thames!” Rose cried.

“Switch and Bait tactic. It’s turned into an international situation, and that they were grabbing all the experts.” The Doctor nodded in growing understanding, head tilted, and she took that as a sign to continue, “They're going to kill the experts, take the missile codes and blow up the earth.”

They stared at her and she looked away from under their gaze, “Well think about it, a spaceship just so happens to malfunction and crash into the Thames, an alien spacecraft at that. Puts the world on red alert like Mickey said and then when they all gather to discuss, kill them all, take the codes that are so obviously in Downing Street and go from there.”

Sage shrugged, tapping her finger insistently on her lap, “I don't know their motive, how they're going to murder everyone or how they've already infiltrated the government, but I'd hazard a guess at the last one and say body snatching or something. Probably been here sometime too, took over some small politician's body and went from there.”

The Doctor gave her an unreadable look while the other two continued to stare at her in surprise and Sage shrugged again, a faint blush on her cheeks, “That's one way I'd do it."

Mickey gave a short laugh, breaking the tension and stares. He nudged her shoulder with a wide grin, “Thank god you're not on their side, Sage. The whole world would be gone in a day.”

“What good would a world be to me? I already live in it, I wouldn’t be a good ruler,” Sage muttered. That had been a bit too much attention for Sage.

The Doctor smiled widely, “Fantastic! Now we know why, I need to do a few things and then we can figure out how long they've been here.” He opened a grid and slid underneath, holding his sonic in his teeth. Sage rolled her eyes before going to him, sat down and grabbed his sonic. 

He flashed a smile at her before going back to working. Mickey peered down at the Doctor working and Sage sitting by his side, head tilted curiously at the Doctor. “So, what're you doing down there?”

“Ricky—” the Doctor started.

Mickey cut in, “Mickey.” There was a slight trembling in his shoulders, and Sage stared in concern, wondering if it was in anger or fear. She knew that the Doctor meant it in jest, at least she was pretty sure he did. Snarky bastard the Doctor, but Mickey seemed to be vibrating with emotions. 

The Doctor pushed out from beneath the console and Sage handed over the sonic absentmindedly when his hand went to her, “Ricky. If I were to tell you what I was doing to the controls of my, frankly, magnificent time ship, would you even begin to understand?”

“No, I suppose not,” Mickey replied slowly. Sage’s concern grew when Mickey seemed to deflate, deflating even further at the Doctor’s next words.

“Shut it then,” the Doctor retorted, pulling himself back under.

Sage sighed, massaging her temples. She went toward Mickey, “You alright, mate? You know he doesn’t mean it.”

Mickey glared at the alien under the grill, letting out a rush of anger, “Sure seems it, the bastard.”

“Yeah, well. He’s an idiot. Bit oblivious when it comes to proper social etiquette but he means well.” Sage gave Mickey a side hug, happy that he relaxed a bit under her embrace. “You’re smart, Micks. But when it comes to alien stuff, unfortunately the Doctor’s the only alien we got.”

Mickey nodded begrudgingly, “I just hate how condescending he is at me. I’m not an idiot. I got my A-levels. I own a shop!” 

“I know, I know,” Sage soothed him. “You’re a big boy, and the big bad Doctor is ruining your day.”

“Oh stuff it, Sage.” He shoved at her, and Sage laughed, feigning being hurt. “I’m serious. He dumbs things down as if we’re children, giving us that little look as if he’s better than us. How are you _not_ annoyed?”

She gave him a dry look, “I teach college freshmen boys. Trust me, the Doctor’s not that bad compared to them. I have a PhD and a Masters in my field and they still try to explain my lectures back to me.”

“Glad I’m not a teacher then.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad at times. Gives me more patience than I need though. If you think about it, the Doctor’s like a big dog who’s been house trained. All bark, no bite. And Mickey, he really does care. Just stupid in how he shows it.”

Mickey gave her an odd look, and she gave him one back. “What? Spit it out, Micks.”

“You seem to know the Doctor fairly well. How many times have you met him?”

She tilted her head, “Hmm, I think this is the second or third time? Depending on how you view it.”

“You’ve got him down pat, and you’ve been cosying up right next to him this entire time and you say you’ve only met him twice?” Mickey gave her such an incredulous look that she flushed before shoving him.

“It’s not like that!”  
  
“Like what? I didn’t say anything,” Mickey said, holding his hands up innocently.

“Shove it, Mickey. I mean it. I just met the Doctor, okay? Nothing else. He’s just… easy to read, okay?”

“Sure,” Mickey gave her a look of blatant disbelief. “Whatever you say.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “See if I’m defending you from the Doctor again if this is the thanks I get.”

Mickey laughed, “Alright, alright. I get it. You _don’t_ have the hots for the alien doctor.”

Sage growled, hitting the laughing idiot on the back of his head and left him, going back to the Doctor.

She sighed and shook her head. She was still going to have a word with the Doctor on his behaviour. “Doctor, you have got to stop teasing him, or at least let up a bit.”

“Why's that then?” he asked absently. 

“Mickey’s a part of Rose's life, a big part. Whether you like it or not, he's in it. At least play nice,” she gently chided him. Mickey was her friend, and she didn’t like how the Doctor was pushing him down. She _hated_ bullies. Mickey didn’t deserve that.

The Doctor was quiet, only the sonic and Rose and Mickey’s conversation the other noises.

It was a short while before he said shortly, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Sparks showered the Doctor as he crowed triumphantly, “Got it! Haha!” He pulled himself out and went to the monitor, “Patched in the radar, looped it back twelve hours so we can follow the flight of the spaceship, here we go… hold on…”

Rose went to the Doctor’s side as he hit the monitor again, “Come on! That's the spaceship on its way to Earth... see? Except... hold on... see, the spaceship did a sling shot round the Earth before it landed.”

Sage groaned, “I hate it when I'm right.”

“So what's that mean?” Rose asked, either ignoring Sage or didn't hear her.

The Doctor shot Sage a grin, “You were absolutely right! It means it came from Earth in the first place, it went up and came back down. Whoever those aliens are, they haven't just arrived. They've been here for a while like Sage said.”

The Doctor switched the monitor to show a news reporter.

“So how many channels do you get?” Mickey asked, eyes gleaming in interest.

The Doctor gave an inaudible sigh but humoured him, “All the basic packages.”

“You get the sports channels?” he prodded. He _was_ curious, but the thought of annoying the Doctor was much more fun.

The Doctor did let out a sigh this time as he stared at Mickey, “Yes, I get the football.”

He turned back to the monitor, “Hold on, I know that bloke.”

The reporter reported, “It is looking likely that the government is bringing in alien specialists, those people who have devoted their lives to studying outer space.”

The Doctor brightened, “UNIT! United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, good people.”

“How'd you know them?” Rose asked.

Mickey piped up, “'Cos he's worked for them. Yeah, don't think I sat on my backside for twelve months, Doctor. I read up on you. You look deep enough on the Internet... and in the history books, and there's his name. Followed by a list of the dead.”

Sage noticed how the Doctor’s back imperceptibly tensed and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it in comfort. He squeezed back but otherwise didn't acknowledge her, “That's nice, Ricky. Good boy.”

“If you know them, why don't you go and help?” Sage asked lightly.

The Doctor looked down at her and narrowed his eyes before answering, “They wouldn't recognize me. I've changed a lot since the old days. Besides, the world's on a knife-edge. There's aliens out there and fake aliens. We want to keep this alien out of the mix. I'm going undercover... and eh, better keep the TARDIS out of site. Ricky! You've got a car— you can do some driving.”

He looked away and walked toward the TARDIS doors, dragging Sage with him.

“Where to?! And why didn't you ask Sage?” Mickey cried, brow raised. Mickey knew, of course, that Sage couldn’t and didn’t drive, not having a car nor a license. He had driven her to many a place. But he didn’t think the Doctor did, crossing his arms. He had seen some of the looks the Doctor gave Sage when she wasn’t looking, and Mickey felt the protectiveness swell up within him.

The Doctor stopped before the doors and huffed, “Sage doesn't drive, so she doesn't have a car. And the roads are clearing, so let's go and have a look at that spaceship.”

When Sage and the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, a spotlight caught them in their sights. Rose and Mickey stepped out behind them, also in their sights. 

“Do not move!” a loudspeaker boomed.

Police cars and soldiers surrounded them, pointing guns and preventing their escape. Mickey made a run for it, heart racing. He wasn’t thinking, mind set on _not_ getting arrested. Jackie, on the other hand, ran out of the flats and tried to get to them but two soldiers restrained her. Mickey hid behind dustbins as the other three looked confused at the commotion. 

Sage forced herself to remain calm. The Doctor was rather famous in London, these officers were probably going to take him, and Rose and her by proxy, to the scene of the crime. She tugged at the Doctor’s hand, making him lean down as she spoke out the side of her mouth, “Bet you they're going to ‘escort’ us to Downing Street.”

The Doctor grinned as the loudspeaker continued, “Raise your hands above your head. You are under arrest!”

The Doctor looked disgruntled at having to let go of Sage’s hand but obeyed, prompting the other two to follow. He grinned madly, “Take me to your leader!”

They ambled into the back of the car, with Sage in the middle of the other two. The door shut and the car left with a lurch.

“This is a bit posh,” Rose commented, looking around the interior of the car. “If I knew it was gonna be like this, being arrested. I'd’ve done it ages ago.”

The Doctor grinned brightly, “We're not being arrested, we're being escorted!”

“All the way to Downing Street, and all because of how many times you helped the Earth,” Sage added.

The Doctor’s smile grew slightly sad as his thoughts went to his past human companions but he continued smiling, “That's right!”

Rose laughed, “Oh my god, I'm going to Ten Downing Street! How come?”

“I hate to say it but Mickey was right. Over the years I've visited this planet a lot of times, and I've been, uh, noticed,” he said sheepishly.

Sage quirked an eyebrow, remembering how many times Mickey stormed into her apartment about another conspiracy theory about the Doctor. Suffice to say, there were many sleepless nights, “Doctor, you're as subtle as a leprechaun prancing around London, tossing gold coins.”

The Doctor faked an exaggerated pout, and Rose laughed, “Now they need you?” she asked.

“Like it said on the news, they're gathering experts in alien knowledge. And who's the biggest expert of the lot?”

Sage didn't miss a beat, “Patrick Moore.”

He rolled his eyes, “Apart from him.”

Rose giggled, “Ah, don't you just love it.”

“I'm telling you, Lloyd George, he used to drink me under the table. Who's the Prime Minister now?” The Doctor asked.

“How should I know I missed a year?” Rose defended.

They looked at Sage in between them and she squirmed under their expectant gaze, “Tony Blair? I think? Probably, I don’t really pay attention.”

They nodded, and the Doctor gave her a long look, and the car pulled up at Ten Downing Street. The paparazzi and hundreds of policemen were there. The Doctor got out of the car and helped Sage out, keeping a firm grip on her right hand. He waved at them all, grinning maniacally.

Sage averted her eyes, vision going half spotty, and scowled, “I'm gonna murder them if they keep at this.”

The Doctor laughed heartily, “It's only a bit of fun, let them have it.”

Sage groaned as Rose smiled nervously up at Ten Downing Street. The three walked in, immediately feeling the hustle and bustle of the situation. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, could we convene? Quick as we can, please. It's this way on the right and can I remind you, ID cards are to be worn at all times,” a man approached the Doctor, holding out an ID card. “Here's your ID card. I'm sorry, your companions don't have clearance.”

There was a slight flash that made Sage’s eyes go blind and she frowned. What was that? There weren’t that many windows, and the sun couldn’t reach her like that. Her eyes narrowed at the ID. Sabotage? Sage let go of the Doctor, grabbed the card and looked it over. She spotted something on the card and pulled out a Bobby pin from her hair.

“What? Hey! That's his, Miss, please give it back to him,” the man said, but Sage didn't pay attention, intent on picking off whatever it was on that card.

The Doctor waved her off, “It's fine, she does that. Anyway I don't go anywhere without them.”

The man looked between the three. Rose was standing there with uncertainty and Sage was still wiggling her pin underneath something from the card.

“You're the code nine, not them,” he said finally with a firm tone.

Sage made a small noise of triumph and the others turned to her. She smiled up at the Doctor, “It's alright, we'll be fine.”

She looped the ID card around his neck, tiptoeing up to reach. Her hand slipped back into his hand, palming the item she unstuck from the card into his hand.

The Doctor looked at her, “You're— the both of you are staying with me.”

“Doctor, he's just doing his job,” she soothed. “Don't fault him for that. Go.”

“She's right,” Rose added.

The Doctor glanced over at her, “You sure?”

Rose nodded, “Yeah, they're the experts. You should hear what they've got to say.”

A woman appeared over the man's shoulder, “Excuse me, are you the Doctor?”

The man groaned, his whole body full of exasperation as he turned to scold the other, “Not now we're busy.”

The Doctor conceded to the two, “I suppose so, don't go getting into any trouble.”

Sage scoffed, “Pot, kettle.”

The Doctor gave her a cheeky grin and a tiny salute before he followed the other experts into the room.

The woman talked to the man, “I just need a word in private.”

“I'm sorry but you haven't got clearance, so please leave it. I have to take them to security.” he said, grabbing Rose's arm.

Before he could take Sage’s arm, the woman spoke up, “It's alright. I'll look after her. Let me be of some use.”

The man nodded briskly, face relieved at getting rid of the women, and the brunette woman led Rose away. Before Sage followed them, she turned back toward the man.

“Sorry, but what was your name?”

He looked startled before he recovered, “Oh, um Indra, Indra Ganesh, junior secretary.”

Sage gave him a kind smile, “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Indra Ganesh, junior secretary,” which only served to make him give her an even more bewildered look before she slipped away after Rose and the woman.

She caught the tail end of the other conversation, “Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North.”

The three walked down the corridor where nobody was standing. Harriet was pacing slightly, “This friend of yours, he's an expert, is that right? He knows about aliens?”

“Why do you want to know?” Rose asked warily.

Sage shot Rose a look, silently agreeing with her wariness, but Sage had a good feeling about Harriet. That was the only reason she said, “Yeah he is, and whatever you know will definitely help us.”

Harriet broke down into tears and Rose went to hug her, comforting her with placating words and rubbing circles on her back as Sage started to pace.

* * *

Inside the conference room, a spokesman introduced the graphics on some papers. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to have your attention please. As you can see from the summaries in front of you, the ship had one porcine occupant…”

The Doctor interrupted, “Now, the really interesting bit happened three days ago, see, filed away under every other business. The North Sea, the satellite detected a signal, a little blip of radiation at one hundred fathoms like there was something down there... you were just about to investigate and the next thing you know, this happens, spaceships, pigs, massive diversion, from what?”

He said it subtly, eyeing the two sitting in the front of the room. The thing Sage gave him was a shock device, designed to kill one human. Sage was right, the aliens were going to kill the experts. Now he had to wait until they revealed themselves before he could make his next move.

Harriet ushered Sage and Rose into the cabinet room. She showed off a body on the ground, “They turned the body into a suit! A disguise for the thing inside!”

Sage cursed while Harriet burst into tears again. This wasn’t good. She hadn’t expected that. If that was the case, then there was no telling who was friend or foe. Were there certain ramifications for the body stealers? Snatchers?

A sob interrupted her train of thought, and Rose was quick to try and stop Harriet’s crying, “It's alright! We believe you. It's... it's alien. They must have some serious technology behind this... if we could find it… we could use it.”

She untangled from Harriet and Sage took her place, rummaging around the room while Sage soothed Harriet. Rose screamed when she opened a cupboard and a body fell out. She blinked rapidly, the dull thud echoing in her ears. Sage moved quickly, shook the shock off, and rushed over to examine him, “Dammit he's dead.”

“Oh my god, is that—”

“It is,” Sage nodded curtly. Her stomach wanted to rebel against her, leaping and jumping at the sight. Hiding a gag, she closed her eyes, thoughts racing. Harriet hesitantly hugged her and Sage’s arms tightened unwillingly around Harriet’s shoulders as her mind raced with plans on what to do next. 

“Harriet, for God's sake! This has gone beyond a joke, you cannot just wander—” Indra screamed. “Oh my God! That's the Prime Minister!”

* * *

“If aliens fake an alien crash and an alien pilot, what do they get?” The Doctor said slowly, inwardly rolling his eyes at the confusion of the so-called experts. He stared surreptitiously at the two in front and watched as they had grinned at each other evilly.

“Us, they get us. It's not a diversion. It's a trap.” he said. "This is about all of us.” The other experts looked intrigued at his words and murmured to themselves. “Alien experts, the only people with knowledge how to fight them gathered together in one room.”

The man sitting down farted, and the Doctor looked at him with a pointed gaze, “Excuse me, do you mind not farting while I'm saving the world?”

“Would you rather… silent but deadly?” The man asked and the other man cackled evilly.

The Doctor stared at them as they started to unzip something from their foreheads. 

The two pulled their skin suits down and revealed a giant baby looking green alien.

There was something around their neck that the Doctor caught sight of. He put a hand in his pocket, holding the shock device in his hand, hidden from view. He braced himself for the pain as the two green aliens said together, “We are the Slitheen.”

One of the aliens pulled out an electronic device, “Thank you all for wearing your ID cards. They'll help to identify the bodies.”

He pressed a button and blue light bathed the room as the Doctor struggled to stay upright, pain racing up his arm far worse than he expected.

* * *

A woman's voice cooed at them, “Ooh, has someone been _naughty_?”

The four turned to stare at a short, blonde woman who entered the room. She shut the door behind her with a sickening click. Sage’s heart roared in her ears, the feeling of being caged in heighting as the woman stalked closer.

Indra was in disbelief, “That's impossible! He left this afternoon. The prime minister left Downing Street, he was driven away!”

“And who told you that, hmm?” There was a nasty grin on the blonde’s face, eyes beady and full of anger. “ _Me_.” The blonde woman stalked closer to Indra. She was stroking her forehead and a zipper appeared out of nowhere.

The woman slowly pulled it down, the sound as deafening as Sage’s heart in her chest, and pulled it off herself. The four were staring at her with horror, disgust, astonishment. 

She roared in delight and aimed for Indra’s neck, the closest of the four. His eyes were wide in terror, and Sage’s body moved without thinking. As fast as she could manage, she pulled him out of the way, pushed to the ground.

Indra was gasping, Harriet and Rose leaping to his side. Sage’s yelp was choked out of her as the pressure of the woman’s hold increased. She struggled in the woman's green arms for a moment as she was strangled, blood rushing to her face as she was running out of air. She could vaguely hear Harriet and Rose comforting Indra as she suffocated.

Thinking as well as she could with a chokehold on her, she stopped struggling, strength leaving her. Her vision was getting spotty, black intermingling with dots of other colours. She didn't. She didn't know what to _do_.

She could feel her heart thump— thump— thumping, trying to run out of her chest. Her head was light, and she wanted to pass out. She was dying. Or close to. 

Sage hadn't felt so goddamned helpless since _him._ And she hated it, she hated it _so_ much. This helplessness, this inability to do anything. Her breaths were coming out short and choked, and she distantly wondered why this was the way she was going to die. This seemed so inefficient. Too long and too drawn out. She didn’t want to die. She refused.

And she wasn't about to die because of some ugly ass farting alien with a choking kink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV? whose POV? I don't know and you won't find out honestly I'm a little disappointed with this chapter I dunno something about it just makes me not like it, this is 3,000+ words than it used to be, what used to be around 5,000 stands at around 8,000, so many feelings and so much turmoil, oh well, I hope all of you enjoyed it. Please leave a review down below and I will see you all in the next chapter (when will it be, who knows? it's practically russian roulette)


	6. World War III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was just bloody great, wasn't it? Aliens with a farting kink. What should Sage do except blow them up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this for my friend, Angie. If you ever find this fic, you'll know.

The Doctor gritted his teeth against the gigantic shock of electricity. Through his pain he could see the surprise from the giants in front of him. It was worse than what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t the worst pain he’d been through.

“Deadly to humans, maybe,” the Doctor ground out. He lifted his hand and tossed the device onto the Slitheen with deadly accuracy, hitting one of them square in the face.

The Slitheen screamed in anguish, the other trying to help but only getting hit with the same pain, and the Doctor quickly took out his sonic. Aiming it at the humans behind him, he quickly disarmed the electricity on them, leaving the one on the Slitheen still going. 

He knelt down by the nearest human, hearts racing. ~~(~~ ~~He didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths not again.)~~ A breath he didn’t know he was holding let go, the human’s pulse was slow and slightly uneven, but definitely alive.

The Doctor raced out of the conference room and tried to find security. 

Soldiers were all gathered in reception, milling about. The Doctor clenched his jaw, annoyed at the lack of attention. “Oi, you want aliens? You've got ‘em! C'mon!” He clapped his hands and gestured for them to follow him. They raced back into the conference room as the aliens were just managing to get back into their skin suits.

“Present arms!” One of the soldiers called.

“Oi! What're you doing?!” the Doctor cried but he was pushed behind the soldiers. This wasn't what was meant to happen. The soldiers were meant to arrest the pair, get them into holding cells. Wasn’t the discovery of aliens and their subsequent survival of said aliens more important than their deaths?! Ah, but what was he thinking? These were _humans._ Such _selfish_ creatures, always wanting to survive no matter what. 

The Doctor struggled to get to the front, still shouting at them to stop when “Open fire!” bullets rained out from the soldiers and multiple shots hit their target. 

The two Slitheen roared in pain and fell down with a heavy thud, still.

The Doctor pushed his way forward, the soldiers lax when the threat was neutralized and he could feel the cold fury spread through him, enveloping his entire body in anger. “What'd you go and do that for!?!”

The soldier looked at him with a patronizing expression, addressing him as if he were a child, “Sir, they were a national threat, we were doing our duty. Now please, go and let us handle this situation.”

The Doctor looked at him with cold fury in his eyes, “You'll find that I'm the _most_ qualified for this.”

He breathed out deeply, a voice sounding suspiciously like Sage's resonating in his mind, chiding him to calm down. These were humans after all, they only know how to handle human threats. They wouldn’t know what to do with this. Seemed like he had to step in again. “Get all of them out and lock down the place.”

“Sir?” The soldier asked, perplexed. “You don't have the auth-”

The Doctor cut him off with a fierce glare, “Ask the Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart if you have any problems. Tell him the Doctor sends his regards.”

The soldier nodded with an unnerved look on his face and immediately barked out orders. 

The Doctor stormed out of the room, a furious expression on his face. He headed for the lift and all but punched the button to start it.

He growled with how long it took. He didn’t need this right now. He needed to figure out what was happening. Who was here and why they were here. The Doctor stomped inside when the lift finally appeared. He slammed a button without looking at it and the doors closed with a soft ping.

He breathed deeply again. He wasn't any good, this angry, he promised himself that he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him again.

Look at what happened when it did, Arcadia, Daleks, Gallifrey….

He shook his head, this wasn't the right time for the Oncoming Storm. It wasn't right, letting this get to him.

He had been a soldier, albeit unwillingly, but a soldier nonetheless. He could understand wanting to protect his home, wanting to protect his loved ones. He understood it all, but the guns were too many, too much. They didn't have to kill them, they could've done literally anything else but kill them, but they did.

And the Doctor had to be reminded of why he always saved these damn power-hungry, greedy, trigger-happy species. 

Sage…. He unconsciously reminded himself. Her dark, powerful eyes, her fierce but kind nature, her bravery and curiosity, everything about her embodied what he loved about humanity. Their curiosity, their ingenuity, their bravery, kindness and unity when needed.

The Doctor breathed out and looked up as the doors pinged. He was near struck dumb by another Slitheen who roared in his face.

He smiled, “Hello!”

* * *

Sage could feel the pressure of the alien's hand around her neck, choking her. Black dots swarmed her vision as she tried to catch her breath.

She couldn't think. She couldn’t _think_. Her body was working overtime to try and consume any oxygen. She could _feel_ her heart slowing and closed her eyes. This was where she died and wasn't that the saddest fucking thing? But no. 

_No._ She said she wasn’t going to die here. She couldn’t allow it.

Sage sent a silent apology to the TARDIS for potentially not being able to live up to their deal. She closed her eyes, trying a last ditch attempt to save herself.

She let herself go limp, fighting against every instinct telling her to fight, to struggle. With her luck, the alien wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse, thinking she died and would drop her, then Sage would make her move to run. 

Just as she thought she was going to die from lack of oxygen, a shock of electricity ran up the alien's arm and forced her to let go, dropping Sage heavily, knocking her head on something wooden. Pain shot through Sage’s skull, and she, in excruciating pain, held in her groan, playing up the ruse of death.

The momentary distraction of the Slitheen granted a big enough distraction for Rose, Harriet and Indra to run away, their footsteps scampering away out of the room.

The alien had roared in pain when she was still suffocating and when the shock stopped, the alien stomped away in anger, chasing after the trio.

The electricity shocked Sage enough that her heart was in pain, and Sage fell on the cabinet floor with a heavy thud. She laid still on the ground, heaving in great gulps of air. She dry heaved onto the floor, coughing and hacking out her lungs. She was alone and in pain. 

Sage crawled fast as she could, which wasn't fast, and slid underneath the giant table.

She laid on her back, still breathing fast. Pulling out a small compact from her pocket, she opened and held it up with trembling fingers.

Dark, purple bruises littered her neck. When she breathed out, there was a quiet, raspy noise that followed each breath. Her chest rattled, heart rolling around still in fear, pumping as much blood as she needed.

Three minutes. That was how long it would've taken for her to have died. Three minutes and neural damage would've been done, possibly resulting in death.

Those few minutes before death were the most harrowing few minutes of her life. She closed the compact and let her arm flop down, her fingers lightly grasping the mirror.

But she didn't regret it, putting herself in the way of Indra, letting him live.

She _did_ regret the pain that followed though. She coughed, “Note to self,” resulting in another litany of coughs. “Don't get nearly choked to death again,” she rasped out.

Sage struggled to get out from underneath the table. The room was suspiciously quiet and Sage was unnerved by the possibilities that presented.

Were the others safe? Did the Doctor get them out? Did any of the aliens get the codes? What was happening? She sincerely hoped the others were safe, she did give that giant a big distraction. The Doctor was smart, he would save them all. 

She was pretty sure that Harriet had run back and grabbed the emergency codes but she couldn't be positive.

Sage stared at the ceiling of the cabinet room before struggling to stand up. When she straightened, the world blurred and she stumbled to a wall, barely catching herself. Sage breathed heavily, her lungs still unaccustomed to the strain. She leaned heavily against the wall, breathing deeply.

She stood up again with the aid of the wall and stared at nothing. Her contacts were magically still in place, so her vision was good. Brilliant.

The bruises were throbbing dully in pain. She pulled out a crumpled scarf from her jacket pocket. She had forgotten to take it out to wash, using it once months ago when she met Jackie in Tesco.

Now she was glad that she didn't as she wrapped it around her neck. The Doctor, if he found her, wouldn't be able to ask questions if she hid the damage.

She glanced around the room, “This is a cabinet room, in a highly secure building in England,” she muttered to herself. “From what I remember and that's a lot, there was an installation that would keep the occupants of this room safe from possible dangers.”

Sage looked around the room and saw a switch by the door. The door was still wide open and Sage hesitated to close it.

“What if the Doctor comes in? He'll most likely already know about this room,” she sighed. “Can't barricade them from the room, then. But I can't just stand here doing nothing either,” Sage blew out a ragged breath. This wasn’t what she signed up for. She wanted to see aliens, yes, but not at the risk of her life. Is this what the Doctor went through on a daily basis? She could _sorta_ see the appeal, curiosity waning over the possibility of death. But she _liked_ her life! This wasn’t the historical experience she wanted!

“Okay, Sage, don’t overreact. Think. _Think_ aliens are here, they've infiltrated London. Been there, done that. But how are _we_ going to survive this? What’s the aliens' next move? What’s _ours_?” Her thoughts raced to keep up with her, and she gazed around the room, willing it to help her.

“They’ve already killed the Prime Minister. They’ve introduced themselves to the whole world, presumably. Since they plan to kill the experts, they’ll assume that their plan is working. But the Doctor’s not going to let that happen. But they’ve got control over the whole building. So unless the Doctor’s got some sort of miracle up his ass the world’s gonna go to shit. So _how_ do we get out with the world still intact?”

She groaned, “It's not like we can just blow the place up and hope for the best.”

Her eyes flickered to the switch by the door, “Or maybe we can….”

“Think, think, how can I hack into the database from here. I can't, that's how.” she growled in frustration. 

“Okay, okay, deal with it later. First if a missile hit us, we'd die on impact. But,” she said slowly, “This is a fairly structured building, these are thick walls. The hit’d be like an earthquake.”

Her eyes darted to the cupboard in the corner and her eyes lit up with excitement, “And in earthquakes, you can survive by staying underneath an archway of a door. Maybe it's the same with cupboards.”

Sage struggled her way toward the cupboard and opened it. She tossed things out of the cupboard and prayed that the Doctor was thinking the same thing as she was.

* * *

Rose, Harriet and Indra raced down corridors and ran into a room.

Indra skidded to a stop, “This room kept the doors locked. We're trapped!”

Rose shook her head and kept trying doors, seeing if one was open. Harriet stopped her, and Rose looked back at her before shouting, “ _Hide_!”

Rose ran to hide behind a cabinet, Harriet and Indra took cover behind another one.

Tense minutes later the alien entered the room, “Oh, such fun! Little human children... where are you? Sweet little humeykins... come to me... let me kiss you better….”

When the alien had her back turned, Rose bolted from her cabinet position to hide behind a curtain.

“Kiss you with my _big,_ green _lips_ ,” she hissed. Her voice was full of amusement as she spoke, “I did always enjoy hunting, the chase, the thrill, the—” she took a deep sniff, “ _smell_ of sweat and fear.”

“There's an old girl, stale bird, brittle bones,” another deep sniff, “And two ripe youngsters, so fresh and full of raging hormones.”

The alien crept forward and swiped the curtain away from Rose. She screamed in terror and Harriet jumped from behind the cabinet, leaving behind a terrified Indra. 

“No! No, take me! Take me, instead!” the alien was momentarily distracted by Harriet as she turned toward her.

Rearing up for a big bite… the doors slammed open!

The Doctor burst into the room, spraying the alien face full of foam, “Out! With me!” Rose pulled the curtain down on her and ran out to hide behind the Doctor.

Harriet and Indra took that as their cue to follow. The Doctor turned to address them, eyes sweeping over them. His eyes hardened, “Where's Sage?” he ground out.

Indra was terrified but answered, “She, she, um, she's de— dead—”

The Doctor faltered, not expecting that before his eyes blazed with fury as he nodded, internalizing the information and compartmentalizing. He turned around and blasted the alien with another face full of foam.

Tossing the extinguisher away, he ran out. The three were close on his heels, “We need to get to the cabinet rooms!” he barked out.

Harriet shouted, “The Emergency Protocols are in there! They give instructions on aliens!”

“I like you, what's your name?” The Doctor asked.

“Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North.” she responded automatically. 

“And you?” he nodded at Indra. 

“Indra Ganesh, junior secretary.”

“Nice to meet you, Harriet, Indra.”

They responded back automatically, “Nice to meet you too.”

The three ran into the cabinet room. It was in disarray, items and chairs scattered around the floor. It was as if a hurricane ripped through the room, leaving behind no survivors. 

And there, in the middle of all the chaos, was Sage sitting on the table with her head in her hands.

“Sage!” the Doctor exclaimed. 

Sage’s head snapped up but her eyes focused behind the Doctor, widening in warning. He turned around and grabbed the brandy near the door.

He held his sonic to it, "One more move and my sonic device will triplicate the flammability of this alcohol. Whoof! We all go up. So back off.”

The Slitheen hesitated, standing on the outskirts of the door.

“Right then. Question time. Who exactly are the Slitheen?” 

“They're aliens," Harriet replied.

“Yeah, I got that. Can I have a bit of hush, please?” The Doctor replied, annoyed.

He brandished the brandy out threateningly in front of him, “You've got a spaceship hidden in the North Sea. It's transmitting a signal. You've murdered your way to the top of government, what for? Invasion?”

The Slitheen scoffed, “Why would we invade this god forsaken rock?” They shifted, waiting for an opportunity to strike as the Doctor focused on extracting more information.

“Then something brought the Slitheen race here? What was it?” The Doctor reasoned.

“The Slitheen race?” she asked, confused. “Slitheen is not our species, Slitheen is our surname.”

“You're a family and you're here to make a profit, then?” Sage spoke up, head tilted slightly.

The Slitheen looked up at her, “Ah, my lost lunch,” she hissed in anger.

The Doctor held the brandy threateningly again. He was running out of time. The Slitheen would undoubtedly figure out his lie if he continued, but he _needed_ more information.

And he could tell by the sharpening of their eyes as the Slitheen looked down at him, “Ahhh, excuse me? Your device will do what? Triplicate the flammability?”

The Doctor chuckled weakly. The jig was up. “Is that what I said?”

“You're making it up!”

“Ah well nice try, Harriet, a drink? I think you're gonna need it,” he asked, offering her the brandy.

“Offer it to the left first,” she said in response.

The Doctor corrected himself and offered to Rose instead, who took it.

“Now I can end this hunt with a slaughter,” the Slitheen said, raising her claws threateningly. 

“Funny thing about Downing Street,” Sage said, sliding up to them. She was even smaller compared to the Slitheen in front of her. And the sight would be laughable if the stake of death wasn’t so high right now. 

“There's so many meetings and important people here. It begs the question of what might happen if there's danger,” she laid a hand on the wall. “If there's danger, then these are the four most safest walls in London,” she flipped the switch. Doors, windows and every entrance were blocked by metal shutters.

The Doctor smiled approvingly at Sage, “Installed in 1991. Three inches of steel lining every single wall. They'll never get in.”

Rose looked at him, “So how do we get out?”

He paused, but Sage answered for him, “We don't. We stay in here and think of a plan to get everyone out safely.”

Harriet raised an eyebrow, “And how do we do that? I'm sorry to say but that sounds hopeless right now.”

“No, we'll get out. We'll get out and get out alive.” Sage corrected.

“And how do you know? Did you suddenly gain the ability to see the future?” Rose asked sarcastically.

“No, I just have faith in the Doctor,” she looked over at him and saw his surprise. She smiled gently and nodded. She was privy to much of the Doctor’s escapades ever since the TARDIS had taken a liking to her. She may not have been on there long, but it had been long enough to establish a character in her mind. The Doctor was special to time and space, to this very fabric of reality. He always survived.

And sometimes that was the saddest part.

“Right, what’ve we got? Any terminals?” the Doctor asked Indra, fully into survival mode. 

Indra shook his head, “No, this place is an antique, barely has the Internet connected here.”

“What I don't get is, why not use the Prime Minister when they killed him?” Rose asked.

“He's too slim, they're big old beasts, they need to fit inside big humans,” the Doctor replied. 

“But the Slitheen are about eight feet, how do they squeeze inside?” Indra asked, curious.

“That's the device around their necks, the compression field literally shrinks them down a bit. That's why there's all that gas, it's a big exchange.” The Doctor replied, going over to the walls and scanning them with his sonic.

“Wish I had a compression field, I could fit a size smaller,” Rose quipped.

“Time and place, Rose,” Sage warned before Harriet could make a remark. “There's a time and place.”

“Right, sorry,” she apologized, “Just you get used to this stuff when you're friends with him.” Rose waved a hand at the Doctor.

“That's an unusual friendship,” Harriet said.

Sage muttered, “Tell me about it.”

“Harriet Jones, Harriet Jones,” the Doctor stopped and looked at her. “I know that name, I've heard it around. You're sure you're not famous for anything?”

Harriet scoffed, “Hardly, lifelong backbencher for me. Fat lot of use I am though, all the protocols are redundant. They say to page the experts who’re all dead downstairs.”

“Well not really, last I checked they were being ushered out by security,” the Doctor said.

Harriet brightened, “That's great, then we could call for help from them.”

“No,” the Doctor refuted. “Place is bound to be on lockdown by now and hopefully the guards knew what was good for them and took the experts out.”

“Hasn't it got like defense codes and things? Can't we just launch a nuclear bomb at them?” Rose asked.

Sage looked at her, “There were so many flaws in that plan,” she said under her breath.

Harriet and Indra stared at her in shock and surprise, “You're a very violent young woman,” Harriet said.

Rose protested, “I'm serious, we could!”

Indra had a contemplative look on his face, “Well technically we could, but nuclear strikes need a release code and that's kept secret by the UN.”

The Doctor stopped scanning the mantelpiece, “Say that again.”

“What, the codes?”

“That, anything and everything.”

“Well, the British Isles can't gain access to atomic weapons without a special resolution from the UN,” Indra said with uncertainty. 

Sage scoffed, “Like that's ever stopped them.”

“Exactly,” Harriet chimed in. “Given our past record, and I voted against that, thank you very much, the codes have been taken out of government hands and given to the UN.”

“Is this important?” Rose asked. 

“Everything's important,” the Doctor said, deep in thought. The Doctor looked over at Sage who nodded. He looked away from her all-knowing gaze.

“If only we knew what Slitheen wanted,” Harriet said. “Look at me! Saying ‘Slitheen’ like it's normal.”

“What do they want though?” Rose asked.

“It's not an invasion,” Sage reminded.

“So resources, like gold? Water? Oil?” Harriet suggested.

The Doctor looked at her impressed, “You're good at this.”

Harriet preened, “Thank you.”

“Harriet Jones,” he muttered, “Why do I know that name?”

Sage came up to him and she grabbed his attention, she smiled, “Future Prime Minister, you reckon? She's good at holding her own.”

His eyes lit up in recognition but before he could say anything, Rose's phone rang, “Oh that's me!”

She took her phone out of her pocket and Indra stared in shock, “But we're sealed in, how'd you get a signal?”

“He zapped it! Super-phone,” she explained.

“Then we can phone for help!” Harriet said to the Doctor.

“We're surrounded, I've no doubt in my mind that Slitheen didn't call for reinforcements.”

“It's Mickey,” Rose added.

“Oh,” he groaned, “Tell your st-”

Sage squeezed his hand in silent warning, and when did she grab his hand? He cut himself off when he saw her shake her head.

“Rose what'd he find?” she asked instead.

Rose held up her phone in reply and there was a picture of a Slitheen on it.

“Call him,” she ordered. 

Rose nodded and dialed his number, Sage couldn't hear what Mickey was saying but knew he was freaking out. Rose tried to interrupt with questions about her mother until the Doctor snatched her phone.

“Is that Ricky? Don't talk, just shut up and go to your computer.” 

Sage shot him a disapproving look as he continued, “Mickey the Idiot, I might just choke before I finish this sentence, but eh, I need you.”

Rose and Sage shared a secret smile as the Doctor looked like he was gagging. That had been progress, and Sage smirked at the pain in the Doctor’s eyes from that admission.

The Doctor bustled around, hooking the phone up to the speakerphone, “Say again.”

Mickey’s voice rang clear as he said, “It's asking for the password.”

“Buffalo, two f’s, one l,” the Doctor responded. Sage raised an eyebrow, that would be useful. After this, they would probably change the password. Pity, you never knew when you needed to hack into a government military base.

Mickey had said something to Jackie before continuing to talk to the other, “See they knew about aliens all along. They just kept us in the dark."

“Ricky, you were born in the dark,” the Doctor drawled.

“Oh leave him alone,” Rose scolded.

“Thank you,” Mickey replied. “It says password again.”

“Just repeat it every time.”

The Doctor started to pace, “They're not invading, they're here to loot. Why hit Big Ben then?”

“You said to gather the experts, to kill them,” Harriet pointed out.

The Doctor waved off her concern, “That lot would've gathered around a weather balloon, you don't need to crash land in the middle of London.”

“The Slitheen were hiding and then they put the whole world on red alert, what would they do that for?” Rose wondered.

“Oh look at her!” Jackie said derisively. 

“Jackie!” Sage shouted at the same time as Rose shouted, “At least I'm trying!”

Jackie continued, ignoring Rose and Sage, “Well, I've got a question if you don't mind. Because since that man walked into our lives, I have been attacked in the streets. I have had creatures from the pits of hell in my own living room, and my daughter's disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

Sage stiffened and the hand holding the Doctor's tightened. She had known that Jackie had had struggled from Rose’s disappearance. Hell, she had been there for most of those breakdowns. Jackie was strong, but doubt was stronger.

“I told you about what happened,” Rose protested weakly.

“I'm talkin' to him. 'Cause I've seen this life of yours, Doctor. And maybe you get off on it. And maybe you think it's all clever and smart, but you tell me. Just answer me this - are my daughters safe?”

The Doctor didn't say anything, he just stared intently at the phone. Sage bristled in anger as she let go of his hand. The word daughters, in plural, barely registering as righteous anger flared. 

“Jackie, I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

Jackie was taken aback, “Excuse me?”

Sage was brimming with anger, “There were a lot of things wrong with what you just said, but I'm only going to address the issue at hand.”

“Sage—” The Doctor tried to interrupt.

“Shut up, I'm talking now. This life of his, as you say, isn't pretty, sure I can admit that. But life in general isn't pretty. It's made up of giant contradictions, beauty and ugliness, evil and good, I can go on and on. But your main issue about safety is an illusion.”

Sage took a deep breath before continuing, “I'm sorry to say this, Jackie but your daughter is never safe. Jackie, you're like the mother I wish I had, but the truth is at _any_ given moment in time, your daughter could end up getting hurt.”

She stopped, recollecting herself, and softened her tone, “But you can't just wrap her up in bubble wrap and lock her up. That's not how life works, it's messy. It’s dirty. It _hurts_. You should know that better than anyone, and the Doctor can't promise she won't get hurt because he can’t predict the future. But he can promise her safety is always going to be in the forefront of his mind because that's just who he is.”

They were all silent at her monologue, the heavy truth viciously setting in. The Doctor could only stare at Sage in shocked silence. He hadn’t expected her to cut in, let alone _defend_ him. There had been so much pain, so much _emotion_ and _hurt_ in her little speech. And the Doctor couldn’t help but wonder who had hurt Sage so much to give her that view in life.

Mickey awkwardly broke the tense silence, “We're in.”

The Doctor stopped staring at Sage and snapped to attention, “Right then, on the left, there's a tab, an icon, little concentric circles. Click on that.”

There was the sound of clicking as Mickey followed his instructions, “What is it?”

“The Slitheen have got a spaceship in the North Sea and it's transmitting that signal, now hush, let me work out what it's saying.”

“He can't just let Sage answer for him, he'll have to answer me one day,” Jackie said, annoyed.

“Hush!” Mickey said.

“It's some sort of message.” The Doctor listened to the words in contemplation.

“Well, what's it say?” Rose asked.

“I dunno, it keeps looping, repeating,” the Doctor said, frustrated. 

A doorbell rang, “Hush!”

“That's not me! Go and see who it is, Jacks,” Mickey said to Jackie.

“It's three o’clock in the morning,” Jackie protested.

“Well go an’ tell ‘em that!”

“It's beaming out into space, who's it for?” The Doctor wondered.

“Well, the Slitheen are a family, yeah? Maybe they're callin’ for more family,” Sage suggested.

The Doctor opened his mouth but Jackie's squeal cut him off, “It's him! It's the thing, it's the Slickeen!”

“They've found us,” Mickey breathed in horror.

“Mickey, I need that signal,” the Doctor said urgently.

“Never mind the signal! Mum, just get out! Get out! Get out!” Rose screamed.

“We can't, it's at the front door.”

There was a noise and Mickey gasped, “Oh my god, it's unmasking. It's gonna kill us.”

“There's got to be some way of stopping them!” Harriet looked at the Doctor, “You're supposed to be the expert, think of something!”

“Harriet, with all due respect, shut up,” Sage snapped.

There was a loud crash and Rose was in a panic, “That's my mother!”

“Right! If we're going to find their weakness, we need to find out where they're from— which planet. So, judging by their face and shape, that narrows it down to five thousand planets within travelling distance. What else do we know about them? Information!” the Doctor clapped his hands and looked at the other four.

“They're green!” Rose suggested.

“Narrows it down,” the Doctor nodded.

“They have an acute sense of smell,” Indra remembered.

“Yup, narrows it down.”

“The compression technology,” Harriet tried.

“Narrows it down.”

“Super strength or some shit,” Sage said crossly as she rubbed her neck gently.

The Doctor looked at her strangely, and Sage yanked her hand away when she caught his gaze.

“...Narrows it down.”

There was another crash as Mickey screamed, “It's getting in!”

“Wait a minute!” Harriet cried as if she had an epiphany. “Did you notice? When they fart, if you'll pardon the word, it doesn't just smell like a fart! Again if you'll pardon the word, it's something else— what is it, it's more like uh— um—”

“Bad breath!” Rose and Indra completed together.

“Calcium decay! Now that narrows it down!” the Doctor cried in excitement, his eyes lighting up.

“We're getting there, mum!” Rose reassured.

“Too late!” Mickey shouted. There was another loud burst as the door continued to break.

“Calcium phosphate, organic calcium, living calcium, creatures made out of living calcium, what else, what else, hyphenated sodium, yes! That narrows it down to one planet! Raxacoricofallapatorius!” the Doctor exclaimed excitedly. 

“Oh yeah, that's great! We could write them a letter!” Mickey said sarcastically. 

Another loud kick, “Kitchen, get to the kitchen!” the Doctor cried.

They heard as Mickey and Jackie backed into the kitchen, “Calcium, recombined with a compression field, acetic acid. Vinegar!”

“Like Hannibal!” Sage and Harriet cried.

“Just like Hannibal,” the Doctor nodded. “Mickey, have you got any vinegar!”

“How should I know?!”

“It's your bloody kitchen, Mickey!” Sage yelled.

“Cupboard by the sink, middle shelf,” Rose informed.

“Give it here! What do you need?”

“Anything with vinegar!”

There was more shuffling until Jackie made a noise of triumph, “Gherkins!”

More shuffling, “Pickled onions! Yeah, pickled eggs!”

Sage wrinkled her nose, and the Doctor made a noise of disgust, “You kiss this man?”

Another kick and there was a bang as the door fell to the ground and then an explosion.

There was a collective sigh of relief. Their hearts were beating furiously, 

“Hannibal?” Rose asked.

Sage opened her mouth but Indra beat her to it, “Hannibal crossed the alps by dissolving rocks with vinegar.”

They all turned to look at him and Indra flushed. Sage grinned, and leaned across the table. “History nerd, nice. High-five me,” Sage said, lifting her hand up.

Indra flushed but obligingly slapped her palm. Harriet lifted up a glass in toast and everyone followed suit.

“Listen to this,” Mickey said.

The woman's voice echoed from the phone, “The Prime Minister has been murdered. Murdered right in front of me by alien hands. Peoples of earth, heed my words. These visitors have not come in peace. Our inspectors have searched the sky above our heads and they have found massive weapons of destruction, capable of being deployed within 45 seconds,” the woman continued.

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“Our technicians can baffle the alien probes. But not for long. We are facing extinction. Unless we strike first. The United Kingdom stands directly beneath the belly of the mothership. I beg the United Nations: pass an emergency resolution. Give us the access codes! A nuclear strike at the heart of the ship is our only chance of survival. Because... from this moment on... it is my solemn duty to inform you... planet Earth is at war.”

“She's making it up. There's no weapons up there, there's no threat. She just invented it,” the Doctor said in disbelief. 

“And they'll believe it cuz an ‘official’ said it,” Sage said, going so far as to doing the air quotes.

“That's why the Slitheen went for spectacle. They want the whole world panicking, because you lot, you get scared, you lash out.” The Doctor headed for the door.

“In doing so, we unleash the codes and missiles and start World War III.” Sage said with a sick sense of realization. 

The Doctor hit the switch, “You get the codes, release the missiles. But not into space because there's nothing there. You attack every other country on Earth, they retaliate, fight back. World War Three, the whole planet gets nuked.”

A Slitheen was standing on the other side of the door with a malicious grin, “And we can sit through it in our spaceship waiting in the Thames. Not crashed. Just parked. They'll be two minutes away.”

“But you'll destroy this beautiful planet,” Harriet asked, distraught. “What for?”

“Profit,” the Doctor and Sage said darkly together.

“That's what the signal is beaming into space for,” the Doctor elaborated. “An advert.”

“Sale of the century,” she said gleefully. “We reduce the Earth to molten slag, then sell it. Piece by piece. Radioactive chucks capable of powering every cut-price star liner and budget cargo ship. There's a recession out there, Doctor. People are buying cheap. This rock becomes raw fuel.”

The Doctor looked up at her, eyes stony. Sage came up beside him, gripping his hand in solidarity.

“At the cost of billions of lives,” she growled out.

“Bargain,” the female alien said, unconcerned. 

“Then I give you a choice: leave this planet or I'll stop you,” the Doctor ground out.

The Slitheen laughed, “What, you? Stuck in your little box?”

The Doctor slammed the switch and stared up at the Slitheen, “Yeah, me,” he said as the doors closed again.

“Alright, Doctor. I'm not saying I trust you, but there must be something you can do,” Jackie said.

The Doctor didn’t say anything. But he didn’t have to, Sage had figured it out long ago. And she wasn’t letting that decision weigh on the Doctor’s shoulders.

“There is,” Sage started, giving a meaningful look at the Doctor before focusing back on Jackie.“And he's putting your daughter's safety above everything else before doing it.” So what if she was rubbing it in a bit? A little salt on the wound. They weren’t going to die, Sage would not let her death hang over the Doctor’s head.

“What?” both Jackie and Rose asked.

The Doctor closed his eyes and sighed but he didn't elaborate.

Sage squeezed his hand and started talking, “There's always been a way out.”

“Well, why don't we use it then?” Rose asked.

Sage opened her mouth but the Doctor cut her off, “Because I can't guarantee your daughters’ safety if we did.”

“Don't you dare, Doctor. Don't you dare,” Jackie warned.

“But that's the thing, if I don't dare everyone dies,” he said hopelessly.

“You wanted to know what kind of world he lives in Jackie? This is it, hard choices and impossible outcomes,” Sage said softly.

“Do it,” Rose said. Her voice was firm, assured. She believed that the Doctor would save them. She believed he would. She knew he would.

The Doctor turned to look at her surprised, “You don't even know what it is, you'd just let me?”

She simply nodded, “Yeah.”

“Don't listen to her, Doctor. Please, she's just a kid,” Jackie pleaded.

“You think I don't know that,” he said harshly. “But this is my life, Jackie, it's not fun and it's not smart. It's like Sage said, it's hard decisions and impossible outcomes. Taking a stand and making a decision when no one else will.”

Sage held his hand tighter in comfort, “So make your choice, I'm with you every step of the way. Stop hesitating.”

The Doctor looked down at her in distraught, “I lost you once,” he said, voice inaudibly trembling. “If I do this, it means that I might lose you again.”

Sage smiled and laughed softly, “You won't.”

“No, Sage. You don't understand if I do this, the aftermath will kill us,” he pleaded with her to understand.

Sage placed her other hand on top of his and stared up into his eyes, “And I'm saying you won't. Mickey,” she called, looking away from him.

“Hack into the Royal Navy, use buffalo. It overrides everything.” She hoped, she was mostly sure that it did. “Select a non-nuclear missile. Select the first category.”

“Sage, what're you doing?” The Doctor asked, confused and pleading.

She grinned saucily, “Saving the rich and famous!”

He barked out a surprised laugh while the others looked on in confusion.

“What is she doing?” Harriet asked Indra.

He shrugged, “Beats me, but it looks like she's using the impact of the hit of the missile to kill the remaining aliens in here.”

She stared at him in shock, “I like you, Indra.”

He blinked, “Um thanks, I guess.”

“Mickey the Idiot, the world is in your hands. Fire,” the Doctor said softly, bringing their attention back to the Doctor and Sage.

There was tense silence as a small click could be heard from over the phone.

“Will these walls sustain the hit?” Harriet asked.

The Doctor shook his head, “No, made for short range attacks. Nothing this big.”

“Alright. Now I'm making the decision. I'm not gonna die, we're gonna ride this one out,” Rose said determinedly. “It's like what they say about earthquakes, you can survive 'em by standing under a door frame, right?”

She headed to the cupboard and opened it, but froze. The others went over to help, to see what the blonde was trying to do. Sage called over, “Done. Did you really think I would've gone with this plan if I didn't have a backup?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Quick thinking, Rose. Nice to know we were thinking the same thing. Quick on your feet, you are. Good on ya, that’ll save you.”

The Doctor grinned and swept her up in a hug. Sage struggled to hide her pain at the unexpected contact. He set her down but kept hold of her hand.

“It's on radar, counter defense 556,” Mickey informed.

“Stop them intercepting it,” the Doctor said.

“Doing it now.”

“Good lad.”

“556 neutralized.”

The Doctor ripped the phone off the mobile speaker and dragged Sage over to the cupboard with the others.

They huddled into the cupboard, it was a tight squeeze with the five of them but they managed.

“Nice knowing you all,” Harriet said. She grabbed Indra and Rose's hand, the two beside her. 

The five braced themselves and with Harriet’s final cry of, “Hannibal!” they were all shaken by the impact.

The shaking continued for several long minutes until it stopped.

They climbed out of the cupboard and saw the ruins of Downing Street. Sage grinned at everything and the Doctor looked down at her with a soft look.

Her scarf had come unwound and he caught a glimpse of dark bruises around her neck. He frowned before Sage caught notice of him and hurried to fix her scarf.

A sergeant came over to them, “Are you alright?”

Harriet flashed her ID card at him, “Harriet Jones. MP, Flydale North. I want you to contact the UN immediately, tell the ambassadors the crisis is over and they can step down. Go on, tell the news!”

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am,” before scurrying away.

“Someone's got a hell of a job sorting this lot out. Oh, Lord! We haven't even got a Prime Minister!”

The Doctor gave her a look, “Well, maybe you should give it a go.”

She laughed, “Me? I'm only a backbencher. Nobody’d vote for me.”

Indra spoke up, “I'd vote for ya.”

Rose nodded, “So would I.”

Harriet waved it off, “Now don't be silly. Look I'd better go and see if I can help.” She climbed over the rubble and headed toward the ambulances.

“Harriet, wait!” Indra called, “I'm coming with you!” He hurried to climb over the ruins and went after her.

The Doctor grinned as the three walked away, “Harriet Jones, I thought I knew that name. Future Prime Minister. Elected for three successive terms, the architect of Britain's Golden Age.”

They walked off, hand in hand.

* * *

The three walked back to the Powell Estate. Rose headed up to her flat while Sage and the Doctor walked onto the TARDIS. 

Sage grinned up at the ceiling of the ship before heading to the console.

She was cooing at it and speaking to the console lowly, and he was unable to make out the words.

The Doctor smiled at her fondly before he frowned. “I don't remember you wearing that scarf earlier.” he said, walking closer to her.

He could see her back tense as she stopped talking to his TARDIS. She turned around but her eyes refused to meet him.

“Well, maybe you have poor memory, I remember me wearing it,” she said lightly.

“Sage,” the Doctor’s voice turned scolding, “You know that's not what I meant.”

She shrugged and turned away, maneuvering around him. He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her flush against him. Her front molded into his chest and she fit perfectly into his arms. He held her tightly, an arm around her waist as he held her wrist.

“Sage,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

She was stiff in his arms, but as he continued to hold her firmly. She relaxed slowly, her back loosening and her body melting into him as he kept his hold firm and strong.

Sage sighed, “You're not going to let it go, are you?”

The Doctor smirked, “Nope!”

Sage buried her face into his chest and the Doctor let her wrist go, opting to unwind the scarf. He carefully undid the fabric and dropped the scarf.

Her neck was a myriad of purple and green bruises. There wasn't a single piece of skin that was unblemished. It looked like it ached something fierce, and the Doctor’s hearts ached in sympathy for her.

The Doctor’s eyes hardened as he lifted her chin gently with his hands, he stared straight into her eyes. “Did they do this to you?” he asked, voice cold.

She wrenched her head away from his grasp, “Doesn't matter anymore, does it. They're gone.”

The Doctor took her chin back into his hands and gazed into her eyes, “Of course it still matters, you're hurt.”

“So?”

“So, it means you need to stop throwing yourself into danger so much.”

“Pot, kettle.”

“Well, yes, but you're human. You can't heal as fast as I can or regenerate like I can.”

“What does it matter if I get hurt, anyhow? It's not like I care,” she scoffed. And that was a rather telling statement, heavy and unwanted.

“But I do,” he said, stressing his words. “You can't keep doing this, Sage. I don't know what I'd do if you di—” he choked on the last word.

Sage stared back into his eyes, her brown eyes full of confusion, as if no one had said those words to her before.

“Sage, I—” he coughed, “You've become one of my closest friends since….” He trailed off, and looked away from her searching gaze.

Her hand went to grasp his and he looked at her. Her face was caught in a gentle smile as he stared back.

“C'mon then,” she said softly. “Let's go and heal my wounds, yeah?”

She left his embrace and his arms immediately felt empty without her in them, but he followed her willingly into the med-bay.

She sat on one of the cots and waited for him. The Doctor shook himself from his reverie and went to grab a paste.

He unscrewed the cap before gently applying it onto her neck. Sage didn't speak throughout the process and the Doctor didn't know what he'd prefer more, her continuous rambling or her silence.

When he finished applying the paste, he put the container back and washed his hands. He grabbed a wet flannel and moved back to Sage. He brought the flannel up and wiped the paste away. Her neck was less purple but still had shadows of the bruises on her.

The Doctor tossed the flannel back into the sink, “There. That should all disappear in an hour or so.”

Sage smiled, “Thanks, Doc. Seems you really live up to your name,” she said teasingly.

“Suppose I do,” he smiled before his expression turned serious.

“This can't keep happening Sage, you can't keep jumping in and getting hurt.”

“And why not? If I can help, if there's a way that I see that would help save people then I'll do it. I can't sit on the sidelines waiting for something to happen,” she argued.

“But you can't keep doing it recklessly and with abandon. I can't keep worrying about you every adventure.”

“What, so you're going to lock me up?” she scoffed.

“If that's what it takes to keep you safe!”

Sage fixed him with a scathing glare. “But you can't! I already told Jackie this. You can't keep me locked up, the world's messy, Doctor! And it hurts,” she broke off and looked away from him. “Don’t be a hypocrite. You can't stop me for doing what I believe is right, just as I can't stop you from doing the exact same thing.” she stopped and took a deep breath.

Sage turned her head and looked up at him, “But I can promise you that I'll try harder not to jump into things if you promise not to argue with me when I inevitably do it.” 

The Doctor sighed, “That's the best I can get out of you, can't I?”

Sage smiled brightly when she realised the Doctor had acquiesced, “Yep!”

“Does that mean you're coming with me?”

Sage deflated at his words, and the Doctor tried not to feel like his hearts had been stabbed. So she wouldn’t go with him again, the feeling of rejection weighed heavy on his soul. ~~(~~ ~~He wasn’t good for her. She realized it and didn’t want to be associated with him ever again. He would never see her again. She would be alive, but he wouldn’t be there to see it. To see her happy. It was for the best really, he wouldn’t end up killing her at least.)~~

She smiled sheepishly, “Yeah about that,” she reached behind her to rub her neck, wincing when she accidentally hit a bruise. “I made a bet with your TARDIS that I'd only come on board when you come at the end of the school year, and it's only spring holiday not summer yet, so I can't.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief, depressing thoughts shoved away.

She laughed, embarrassed, “Yeah, um, your TARDIS threatened to kidnap me and I couldn't let that happen so I might’ve made a bet with her that I'd go only if you came in summer.”

“You made a bet with the TARDIS?” he said dumbly.

Sage flushed red hot, “It's not like I would let her kidnap me! This was the best thing I could do.”

The Doctor laughed and shook his head, “Only you could make a bet with a thousands years old, sentient spaceship.”

Sage huffed, “It's not like she gave me much choice,” before she softened, “That's okay though, right? You're okay with me not going yet?”

The Doctor gazed down at her, his expression soft, “Yeah, I'll be fine. Gives me a bit of a challenge, yeah? To get back at the right time.”

“You better be adventuring though, don't just come here right after just so you can pick me up,” she warned.

The Doctor held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright, I won't just come here right after. One adventure then I'll come back.”

“I'd like to see you try, I bet next time you'll visit you'll get the date wrong again,” she teased, and it only slightly fell flat.

He looked into her eyes, his own darkening a bit in amusement, “We'll just have to see, won't we?”

Sage flushed again and nodded shyly, they stayed like that for moments before she jumped up.

“Oh!” Sage felt around in her pockets before pulling out a key.

She took his hand and laid the key in the open palm. “This is for you, in case you ever visit and it's not summer so you can come into my flat and not have to deal with Jackie,” she explained. “Much as I love Jackie, I know she can be too much to handle so if you ever need to slip away just come into my flat.”

The Doctor stared at her in surprise, looking down at the key for several moments. He closed his hand around it and gruffly said, “Thank you.”

She smiled beatifically at him, “No problem,” she glanced at her watch, “Doesn't seem like I'm gonna finish grading those papers. Should go and try and get to sleep though.”

Sage slipped off the bed, she tiptoed up and kissed his cheek, “It's late and Rose’ll be wondering where you're at and if you're going soon. Go and get her.”

The Doctor reached for her shoulder, remembering how she flinched when he had gone for her wrist last time, as she tried to slip away, “This isn't goodbye.”

She looked at him confused, brown eyes wide, “Of course not. But I really should go. So Doctor, until the next adventure.”

He nodded, “Until then.” He let go of her and watched her walk away.

The Doctor stood in the same spot, staring at where Sage had been, he opened his hand and looked down at the key.

He smiled softly, the idea of barging in on Sage anytime he wanted stirring ideas of mischief in him. And he was _invited_. “Fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think that that method would work if you were actually in a choke hold IRL, so don't do that. Posting this without really editing it so mistakes are mine. Please, please, please for the love of god review. It literally makes me cry tears of joy.


	7. Key to a flat ≠ key to a heart(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage just gave it to him to be polite. After all, she could come into the TARDIS any time she wanted (especially since the TARDIS actually liked her), so it was only fair that he had a key to her place too, right? 
> 
> Worst idea she ever had.  
> \--
> 
> Or 5 times the Doctor decided to break in (use his key) and 1 time someone else broke in.

1. _Three in the morning_

Sage was sleeping for once. It was nice and peaceful and quiet. And she was asleep. Well... she _was_. But something was rattling around in her flat, and it was driving her _mad_.

She had woken up earlier by it but had written it off as some sort of woodland creature being a menace and didn’t think too much of it. Now it was three hours later, and she still couldn’t _fucking sleep._

“Argh!” She stuffed her face into her pillow, hoping to muffle the noises. But _no_ , of course not. She could still hear whatever the fuck that was. “Whatever that is better fucking shut up! I have work tomorrow, so if you could shut up and fuck off, I _won’t_ kill you!”

The noises died down, somehow sounding a little guilty as it tapered off. And Sage sighed, hoping that she could sleep again. But, of course, she was asking for too much. Something rattled, and something sounded like glass breaking and a quiet curse made her jump up with a growl.

“Holy shit,” she hissed, steaming at her lack of sleep. “Whoever you are, you better have a good fucking explanation for waking me up at” squinting at the clock “ _three in the fucking morning!”_

She nearly brained herself putting on her glasses then grabbed the nearest thing, a portable fan, because it didn’t escape her attention that it could be a burglar, and she would make their life _hell_ for waking her up. Barely keeping from stomping her feet —because she had _tact_ , dammit— she carefully made her way through her living room, eyes open for the source of the noise.

Seeing nothing, she started toward her kitchen, the noises getting progressively louder the closer she got. Her heart started to palpitate, the thought of a robber getting more and more realistic by the second. Oh god what if they had a gun? She wasn’t that well versed with Britain’s laws on gun control, only that it was vastly better than America’s (but basically everywhere was better at gun control than America. So that wasn't really saying much) but that didn’t mean it wasn’t impossible to get a gun.

Creeping closer to the archway of the kitchen, she tilted her head slightly, eyes straining in the dark to catch sight of the figure. They were tall, about the same height as the Doctor, and Sage’s heart thumped heavily in her chest.

“Damn, just where does she keep her trash can?” a familiar voice muttered, and Sage fell apart in relief then drew herself together in anger. She had said that the Doctor could come over, but not in the middle of the goddamn night! What the hell! He may not sleep that often, but humans did. And Sage desperately needed it. 

Anger swelled up within Sage, and she flicked the light on in the kitchen, catching the Doctor in an odd sort of tableau. He stood there frozen, dust pan filled with broken ceramic pieces, face filled with guilt. Surrounding him were piles of dirty dishes and a cake pan that she didn’t know she had filled with cake batter. Behind the Doctor, she could see the oven, preheated and ready.

“It’s by the sink,” she said dryly, and the Doctor flushed slightly at being caught. “Doctor, what the hell? I know I invited you to come over, but I meant during the day, not three in the fucking morning.”

“I wanted cake,” he said blithely, depositing the broken pieces with an ease now that he found the bin.

“So you come to _my_ flat to make it?” Sage was outraged! The Doctor interrupted her much needed sleep to make cake! She thought there had been an emergency or a burglar, not an idiot with a sweet tooth. Did he really think that he could make a cake while she was asleep? He was using the electric mixer! “You have a perfectly good TARDIS with a wonderful kitchen, and you come and pilfer through my things and destroy _my_ kitchen all because of your craving for cake?!”

“Yes.” And the simple way he said it made Sage’s anger flare up, fixing the Doctor with a fierce glare. Not that he seemed that affected by it. Sage didn’t make much of a threat fitted in sleep shorts and a shirt three sizes too big for her, hair braided messily and tied just as sloppily.

“Is that a fan?” the Doctor asked, eyeing the appliance in her hands with a bemused smile.

She looked down in her hands, remembering the makeshift weapon she grabbed when she thought it had been an intruder. “Yes, yes it is, and right now, Doctor, I am _not_ a huge fan of _you_.” She set the fan on the counter, sitting heavily down at the breakfast bar.

“Why are you here, Doctor? Really, I mean.”

“I told you, I wanted cake,” the smile he gave her was way too mischievous and gleeful for this early in the morning. Her tiredness gave way, drowning Sage in exhaustion.

She threw her hands up in the air, looking heavenward for patience. This wasn’t the time. She had work in less than four hours, and she just wasn’t in the mood. Three in the morning was not the time for her to deal with the Doctor’s antics. Not when she had just seen him a few days ago. “You know what, Doctor? Have at it, make and take your fucking cake. Clean up after yourself. I’m going back to fucking bed. Probably. If my insomnia can handle it.”

The Doctor’s face morphed into one of concern, and Sage cursed herself for letting things like that slip. But sue her, it was three in the morning, she had gotten like seven hours of sleep this past week. Yeah, obviously her filter was going to be broken when she was this tired. 

Before the Doctor could inevitably slip in a disappointed or scolding lecture on her sleeping habits (which by the way, he was a huge hypocrite on _that_ habit) she turned off the lights in the kitchen —ignoring the indignant _"H_ _ey!”_ from the Doctor— and slumped back to her bed, eyes slipping shut when her head hit the pillow.

* * *

2\. _Three in the afternoon_

The drone of the television hurt Sage’s head, its echoes drowning out the poison in her mind. Today had not been a good day. Sage had no idea what was troubling her in the first place, just the fact that her mind seemed to be her enemy today.

She couldn’t do much, but she had already cancelled her class for the day and tomorrow. Recuperating was the best course of action, and Sage had slowly come to terms with it, and took full advantage of having a mental health day.

Scooping up a spoonful of half-melted ice cream, she tried to make sense of the program playing on the telly. The characters were doing… something that Sage couldn't make sense of, but she laughed when one of them slipped on a banana peel.

The world was grey around her, the crackling noises and pictures of the TV, her only recognition of the outside world. Her mind was a whirlwind of chaos and she was not at all for it. 

Sage sighed, she hadn’t had a bad day like this in awhile. And boy was it just as fun as she remembered. Feeling sluggish, tired, empty, muted. What more could a girl ask for? Biting the spoon, she tried to swallow the soupy ice cream, the touch tingling her tongue with its temperature, cooled down by now, but not making her feel anything else. 

“Well isn’t this a rather sorry sight?” Someone interrupted, making Sage yelp and fling her spoon at the intruder.

The intruder —the _Doctor,_ she mentally corrected— didn’t do much more than just duck the flying utensil, giving her a raised brow and slight incredulous look. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The hell, Doctor?” Sage said, _croaked_ more like. Her protest didn’t seem all that indignant when it resembled much more to sandpaper than anger. She groaned quietly, falling back onto the couch when it was clear that she wasn’t getting robbed. She ruffled her hair, pulling at the ponytail.

“That’s what I’m asking you,” the Doctor plopped down on her couch, grabbing her ice cream and making a face at the flavour.

“What? Too good for Rocky Road?” Sage challenged, feeling something like her old self right now. The vestiges of sanity were slowly coming back to her, and the sight right next to her spoke of an oncoming headache.

“Bit like chocolate soup more like,” the Doctor snorted when he looked inside the carton. “Why are you eating ice cream at three in the afternoon on Tuesday? Don’t you have work today?”

Sage gave him a blank look, mind trying to compute with the information he gave her. “It’s Tuesday?”

The Doctor gave her a funny look, “And I’m the one who mixes up dates,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

“Oh, piss off, Doctor,” Sage said tiredly. “I’m not in the mood for you today. The last time this happened you broke into my flat to bake a cake.”

“I used my key,” the Doctor corrected. “The key that _you_ gave me, mind.”

Sage gave him an unimpressed look, “Most people have the good sense not to come into another person’s house at three in the morning just to bake a cake in their kitchen.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” he said lightly, picking up the remote and switching off the telly. “And I came in today at three in the _afternoon_. Isn’t that better?”

“What? You want me to give you a gold star and pat you on the back?” Sage snarked, standing up to dispose of her trash, picking up the spoon and rinsing it off. 

“Nah, nothing like that,” the Doctor gave her a cheeky wink and she rolled her eyes in response. “Just wonderin’ what you were doin’ on a Tuesday. Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to report all my plans to you.” Sage knew it was a deflection as much as the Doctor knew it was. But there wasn’t anything Sage wanted to tell him at this moment. Honestly, all she wanted to do right now was to curl up in her bed and maybe watch some more soaps. Not pander to an alien who thought he knew her better than she did.

“Aw, c’mon Sage,” the Doctor stopped her from entering her room, and she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, indulging him. “I actually was here for something.”

She couldn’t help her curiosity piquing. The Doctor seemed a little nervous, and she tilted her head up at him. “What’s up?”  
  
“What’s your favourite colour?”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. She gave him an unimpressed look before sighing. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why?”

The Doctor shifted slightly, tugging one of his ear lobes. A demure look on his face that contrasted with the sharp grin on his lips. “It’s one of those getting to know you questions that everyone always does, right? Like what’s your job and all that?”

The echo of her words made her quirk a brow, amusement colouring her face. She tilted her head, indulging him. “Green.”

“Not blue?” There was a small smirk on his face, and Sage knew he was thinking about when they first met.

“Oh, the TARDIS will always be in my heart,” Sage said, a grin curling up on her lips. “But green is… something special.”

The Doctor pursed his lips, obviously seeing something in her wistful face and nostalgic tone. But he didn’t choose to comment. He smirked and gave her a tiny nod, pretending to tip an invisible hat before he swept out of her flat, leather jacket flapping behind him as if it were coat flaps in the wind. 

Sage stood there, slightly bewildered, “Did— did the Doctor just break into my apartment just to ask me my favourite colour?” She shook her head, “I don’t— I give up with that guy.”

* * *

3. _A future glimpse_

Three days later, Sage was interrupted from grading with a knock at the door. 

She paused, pen cap in her mouth and eyes suspiciously looking at the front door. She wasn't expecting anybody, nor did she order anything online. Both Jackie and Mickey had a key, and Sage didn’t think the Doctor would be so courteous as to knock when he’d broken into her apartment multiple times. Sage took out the pen cap, capping it before tapping out a small rhythm on the kitchen island as she deliberated.

Sage didn't think she would be killed per se, but being on adventures with the Doctor, few though it may have been, could get her… into trouble.

Sighing, she wondered how her life changed into the shit show that it came to today. Sage pinched the bridge of her nose, going over her options before pushing out her chair.

Briskly, she took the risk, opening her door.

No one was at the door. 

But there was a box, which she looked at in surprise. She would have remembered if she had ordered anything. And there didn’t seem to be any shipping addresses to or from attached to it. Sage hesitated, an unknown variable. She had no idea if the box attached a bomb or something, and wow, she was getting real pessimistic over here. She started to close her door, intent on calling the police.

“Psst,” someone hissed, a poor imitation of a whisper, “hey, hey! Over here!”

Sage froze, the voice was… vaguely familiar, an eerie sound. A bit lower and rougher, somewhat coarser, but familiar all the same. Wildly, she looked left and right in the halls, spotting a head peeking out at one corner.

Hair flowed down in a loose ponytail highlighted in light hues of blue, but the face is what drew her attention. Sage’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

Glasses emphasized brown eyes glinting with mischief and glee. A really, really bad wink was tried, and Sage blinked rapidly to re-orientate herself to reality.

"Me?" She mouthed to the person at the end of the hall.

The woman, who looked frighteningly similar to Sage, smiled with mischief, glasses glinting in the light then she pointed to the box and to Sage, making shoo-ing motions to the apartment. 

Deciding to chalk it all up to time travel, Sage picked up the box, which was heavier than she expected, and headed back into her flat, barely catching sight of flapping beige coattails. She put the box down. There was only one person she knew who would wear something that pretentious, "Doctor!"

There were guilty boots that stopped stomping through her flat, and Sage rolled her eyes at the call, "Uh, no, no. No Doctors here!"

It was a female voice, which made her frown and wonder how many regenerations it took for the Doctor to get to be a woman. And how long her hair was. "Oh, don't play me the fool, Doctor. Just who do you think I am?"

There was quiet, and then mutters and mumbles in a tone that sounded a lot like pouting and petulance where Sage could tell the Doctor was arguing with herself. A woman, blonde, came from around the corner, beige overcoat flapping in the nonexistent wind as she fidgeted where she stood. The Doctor gave Sage a sheepish smile, chuckling weakly, "Surprise?"

Sage gave her a look, noting that this Doctor still had short hair, before scrunching up her nose, "You're still taller than me." The Doctor gave her a look of surprise then mirth bloomed in her eyes, lips curling into a bright smile and Sage was struck by the happiness in the Doctor. Not to say that the Doctor she knew was sad, but he bore the weight of loss heavily on his shoulders. This Doctor didn't seem _as_ weighed down by it. 

"Still the same, even after all these years, huh, love," the Doctor grinned, and Sage was thrown again by the term of endearment, which the Doctor seemed to have caught on to, looking half a second away from cursing the air blue.

Sage raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. The less she knew the better. Didn't want to mess up the course of history, after all. No matter how curious she was right now. "You still have a key to this place? It's gotta have been a few regenerations by now."

"I'm a hoarder," the Doctor shrugged shamelessly and Sage nodded, having caught a glimpse at one of the Doctor's closets in the TARDIS. "But now I have to go, so….”

Sage smiled at the Doctor’s awkwardness, the blonde shuffling her feet because she didn’t want to seem rude to Sage. Sage didn’t even need to lift up on her toes like she did with the Doctor she knew, just lifting her head and tilting the Doctor’s down slightly to kiss her on the cheek. “Can’t wait ‘til I see you, Doctor.”

The Doctor gave her a genuine smile, swiftly pecking Sage on the cheek before sweeping out of her flat with a cheerful, “Toodles!”

Sage blinked, lifting a hand to softly touch the place where the Doctor had kissed. “Huh, looking forward to that development in the relationship.” She shook her head, “Right, best not to get my hopes up. She could mean it in the European way or maybe it’s something from her people. Don’t think much of it, Sage.”

Stomach souring at her thoughts, she brought the box to the kitchen, grabbing a knife to open it up. Green filled her vision and she gasped. A gorgeous light green fabric was neatly folded into the cardboard box, and Sage pulled it out, marveling at its soft, downy fabric. The blanket flowed out in rivulets, soft, heavy, and thick. “This is gorgeous,” Sage breathed out, loving the feel of the blanket between her fingers. 

A knock at the door made her pause. Two visitors in less than an hour? She pursed her lips, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. Opening the door, Sage was surprised to see a petite brunette knocking, the other woman looking just as surprised, brown eyes wide. “Oh! I’m sorry. I must’ve gotten the wrong door. Unless you’re Director Alys.”

“No, no,” Sage smiled politely. “I hope you have a good day and find who you’re looking for.”  
  
The brunette smiled widely, “Thanks, Sage, bye!”

Sage nodded her head with a smile, closing the door, and only feeling slightly unnerved. She paused on her way to the couch, “Wait, how did she know my name?”

“How did who know your name?”

“The woman who—” Sage spun around, facing the Doctor, the one that she knew, leather jacket and all. “Wait, Doctor? When did you get here?”

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly, “Just got here. Who were you talking about?”

“Someone—” Sage shook her head, closing her eyes. The memory of the woman was already fading away, and she frowned. “I— I don’t know. Never mind.” Her eyes tracked down to the Doctor’s boots, and her frown deepened. “Hey, I remember telling you to take off your shoes whenever you come into my apartment.”

The Doctor looked down, seeming surprised at still wearing boots. He grumbled lightly, backtracking to peel them off. Sage wandered back into her kitchen, cleaning up the box when a note fluttered down to the ground. Sage stopped, stowing the cardboard box away before picking it up. 

‘ _Sorry, I got this to you a little late, love. See you soon. Kisses!’_ Sage smiled softly at the note, marveling slightly at the curlicues and difference between Doctors.

“This is a new blanket, isn’t it, Sage?” the Doctor called from the room over. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh— er, a friend made it and gave it to me,” Sage said distractedly. She folded the note up, putting it carefully in her pocket and joined the Doctor in the living room, completely missing the Doctor’s conspiratorial and calculating look.

* * *

4\. _Jealousy with a hint of foreshadowing_

“How could she do this to me!” the Doctor stormed into her flat, causing Sage to fumble with her research papers and spill everything on the floor. She gave the Doctor a dirty glare, crouching to pick up her things. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, bending down to help her as he started to rant. “I take her places! I pilot her to wonders unknown and she thinks that gives her the right to invite anyone she pleases onboard.

“Honestly, you humans. You’re given an inch and you take a mile. Now, normally, I’d be delighted. But Rose seems to think that a pretty boy like Aiden should be allowed on _my_ spaceship.” The Doctor handed over the papers, continuing to rant.

Sage stood up, humming and making understanding noises at the appropriate times. The Doctor sat down heavily, still fuming as he started to mutter things in words and languages Sage couldn’t understand.

She started up the kettle, going through the motions as she listened to the Doctor. Pouring the hot water, she let it stew for a few minutes as the Doctor's anger dialed down. Giving him a deadpan look, she said, "Sounds like you're jealous."

The Doctor’s mouth fell open, blue eyes wide in surprise as he tried to formulate some sort of response, mouth working up and down. 

Sage took a sip of her tea, barely hiding her amused look as the Doctor finally said, "I'm not jealous!"

"Hmm," Sage quirked a brow and handed him his mug of tea. The Doctor angrily muttered under his breath as he stirred, and Sage smirked as he gave her a dirty glare.

"Not jealous, gotcha," she winked (again, really, really badly) as the Doctor flowered at her. "Anyway, even though you're _not_ jealous, a— erm, _friend_ of mine was in the same situation. Sorta."

"Oh?" The Doctor perked up imperceptibly and Sage inwardly rolled her eyes. He was so predictable. 

"Mmhmm," Sage took a sip, the tea just the right temperature. "My _friend_ had a boyfriend.” The Doctor’s eyes twitched at that description, knowing exactly what she was implying. “Good man, bit of a player, but his morals were tight. He liked to flirt. And well my friend…. See the two just got into a relationship, sweetest couple you'd ever see. Honestly, felt cavities rottin' up my teeth when I saw 'em. Though that didn't stop the boyfrien' from flirtin' with anythin' that walks, see."

Sage gave him an insufferable look as the Doctor nodded in understanding, an odd look in his eye. "My friend was a bit insecure 'bout it, the two argue, then ran off in a huff. Well, put _me_ as the middleman. An' lemme tell ya, I hate bein' the middleman." She clapped her hands together, "So, I told 'em ta talk it out. Maybe there was a reason why the boyfrien' was flirtin' with other women."

The Doctor leaned forward, "And did it work for them?"

Sage gave him a crooked smile, "Well, he stopped flirtin'." She took their two mugs and went to rinse it off.

"Now," the Doctor's hands moved as if he was trying to call Sage back to him, "wh- what did you say your friends' names were?"

"I didn't." Sage gave him a mysterious smile. "Come now, Doctor. We all have to have some secrets for ourselves."

There was a thumping sound outside of her flat, and Sage gave him a secretive smile. Outside, there was a distant but distinctive shout of —"Okay, bye, mum! I'll be going now. See you soon!"— and Sage tilted her head toward the door.

"Seems you've gotta go, Doctor. I'll see you next time you decide to storm into my flat."

The Doctor's lips were screwed up like he sucked a lemon, face looking as if he wanted to ask some more. But the stomping got a bit louder then more distant, fast and hard, and he sighed. 

"I'll figure it out," he warned with a wagging finger.

Sage only gave him a serene smile back, "Of that I have no doubt." She gave him a small salute as he grumbled his way out of her apartment. 

She blew out a breath when the door had closed, "He's not gonna let that go. Not at all."

* * *

5\. _Bruschetta and flirting_

The Doctor was already in her flat by the time Sage got home, and Sage raised a brow when she caught sight of him, but only kept drinking her coffee. She put her things down, "You know, you're making this into a bit of a habit, Doctor."

Mickey, who had been carrying most of her other groceries, looked at Sage in surprise. "A habit? How long has this been going on, Sage?"

Sage hummed, tilting her head, "About a month or so now. Ever since the aliens with a farting kink. I gave him a key." Mickey snorted and Sage guided him into the kitchen, away from the Doctor’s prying ears and eyes. 

"You gave him a key,” Mickey repeated, eyeing Sage. He set down the bags, crossing his arms and giving her a flat look. He had never really liked the Doctor and Sage knew it. Giving the Doctor a key was inviting him even more into his life than Rose had already done. He didn’t trust the alien man. Sure, he could trust that he could save the Earth, but forming substantial (and healthy) relationships was a whole other story. 

Sage gave him an exasperated look. “Let it go, Micks. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. And let me remind you, I’m older than _you_. I trust the Doctor, and you trust me. So _trust_ me and my decisions. Okay, Mickey?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Mickey eyed the Doctor skeptically, and when the Doctor smiled mockingly back at him, he scowled. “I met men like him before Sage. They always want more than you can give. They take and take, but they never give back. I trust you, Sage. I just don’t trust _him_.”

Sage softened, body relaxing at his words. She put her hands on his arms, giving him a little shake and fond smile. “Okay, thank you for your concern. And if it turns out like that, you can be the first to gloat about my horrible decision making skills all you want. But the Doctor is here, and I really don't want to deal with the two of you having an Alpha Male dominance fight thing, okay?"

Mickey huffed, "Fine. Next week, you, me and my mates, alright?" He hit his chest, giving her a wink and a wave.

"Next week, and I'll beat you at darts in front of all your mates this time," she said with a shark-like grin.

His face fell, scowling. "I still say you cheat."

"It's all in the wrists, Micks," she gave him a smirk, "all in the wrists. Now get outta here. I got an alien to take care of."

He scoffed, giving her a crooked smile, "Later, Sage."

She waved cheerfully as he went out the front door. She hummed, neatly putting away her groceries. Turning, she caught sight of the Doctor eyeing her oddly. She raised a brow, "What?"

"Nothing," he bit out, resuming his pacing. Sage glanced a look at his feet, relieved that he was wearing socks and not boots and also distantly wondering how he was still stomping hard enough to sound like he was wearing boots. "That idiot human!" 

Sage choked on her coffee, eyes wide in offense, "Excuse me?" He couldn't possibly be talking about Mickey. 

He softened, faltering for a second before resuming his pacing, "Not you. And not the idiot. That— that pink and yellow one!"

"Pink and yellow?" Sage furrowed her brow. There was only one other person who fit that description. "Wait, wait, wait you mean _Rose?_ What's she done now?"

"Nothing."

Sage bit back a rude remark, eyes narrowed at the Doctor. If he wasn't going to talk about whatever was clearly bothering him, then she wouldn't ask. She wouldn't be lured into this stupid game of his. Draining the rest of the coffee, she tossed the disposable cup, stowing the rest of her groceries and the plastic bags away. The Doctor thought he could bait her into helping him with his problems, he had another thing coming.

The Doctor sat down heavily on her couch, pulling her new green overthrow over him, bunching up the fabric. His face was full of agitation, blue eyes flinty and looking between Sage and the front door. 

An uncomfortable feeling was settling in her stomach, something that made her want to wriggle in an attempt to get rid of it. The atmosphere surrounding the Doctor didn’t help her feelings either. 

She sighed, pulling out a few pots and pans. She set to boil the water, lightly salting it. She washed her hands before grabbing some ingredients. She decided to make a simple dish. She pursed her lips, looking over at the agitated alien, and her eyes narrowed. “Hey, Doctor! Come here and dice these tomatoes for me.”

The Doctor gave her a surprised look, blue eyes wide, and Sage would have thought it endearing if she wasn’t annoyed at him right now. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. You’re staying over for dinner, and that means you have to help make it.”

“I am?” Sage gave him a look, and he was nodding his head vigorously. “Okay, I am. I am now coming over to dice tomatoes.” She nodded politely, ice all over her features as she ushered him to wash his hands then handed him the things he needed.  
  
“You’re gonna make the bruschetta.” She paused, looking at him. “You _do_ know how to make bruschetta, right?”

“Sage, I trained with world class chefs who have earned three Michelin stars. I can make some bruschetta.”

“Alright,” she held her hands up, “I was just asking a question, not for your entire CV, jeez. I’ve never seen you cook a damn meal since I met you. For all I know, you could be living off meal replacement bars or something.” The last part she said under her breath, but from the dirty glare that the Doctor gave her he heard her anyway. She smiled cheekily at him.

“What are you making?” he asked her, neatly chopping tomatoes in a way that made her jealous.

“Gnocchi.” 

The Doctor halted, giving her an incredulous look. “You're making gnocchi? Right now? Sage, that takes an hour.”

“That’s why we have the bruschetta,” Sage said. “We’re gonna eat that as the potatoes boil. Then we’re gonna make the gnocchi and the sauce, and bam, food.”

He squinted at her, “Is this your first time making gnocchi?”

She rolled her eyes, as he went on. “Because I know the creator of gnocchi, and it’s a delicate process. It takes hours of practice—” She started to peel the potatoes as her eyes glazed over from actively not listening to the Doctor. The last potato was peeled, as he was finishing up, “—and believe me when I say that you shouldn’t insult an Italian’s pasta.”

“Uh huh.” The water had started to boil, so she added the potatoes in gently so they wouldn’t splash. “That sounds riveting.”

“Well, of course, I had to—”

“Yeah, cool, you done with the tomatoes?” As much as she loved to listen to the Doctor humbly brag about all his historical journeys, she wasn’t much in the mindspace for it right now. All she wanted was food. She pointed at the mess on the cutting board, and the Doctor froze. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m done.”

“Great, you can get started on the rest of it then,” she gave him a charming smile, and the Doctor moved to get started.  
  
Sage started humming, swaying as she got the rest of the things she needed. Two cups of flour, one egg, salt. Her hips swayed to a melody only she could hear, and the Doctor, unknown to her, stopped what he was doing to watch her, a fond smile forming on his face without his knowing.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and she turned off the burner, carefully pulling the pot off the stove and toward the sink where she drained the potatoes, letting them cool for a few minutes before transporting them to where she could mash them. She caught the Doctor’s eyes, and she smiled at him, startling the Doctor and making him fumble as he tried to appear nonchalant. 

Sage tilted her head, confused. “Er— you wanna mash these potatoes? I can make the bruschetta if you want.”

“I— yeah, yeah. Sure, I’ll mash it.” He nodded, somewhat distracted by the disarming smile that Sage gave him, nearly dropping a knife as he tried to set it down.

“Whoa, careful there, Doc,” Sage gave him a fond, and somewhat exasperated, expression. “Here, you go.” She handed him the metal bowl, along with a fork. “Don’t overwork them. I don’t have a ricer, so you’ll have to make do with a fork. When it’s mashed, add them to—”

“I have made gnocchi before, Sage,” he said, already mashing. 

“Alright, alright. I just want to make sure.” She backed off, starting on the rest of the things for the bruschetta. She chopped up the rest of the vegetables, tossing them together before pausing and then slicing the bread and starting the toaster. She added the balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper to the mixture of vegetables. She hummed as she worked, methodically, mixing all of them together. 

The Doctor had long stopped mashing the potatoes, content to instead just watch Sage work. He was mesmerized. Sage held a command in the way that she worked in the kitchen. She held his attention, his focus, as she determinedly manipulated the food in her hands. She had an aura surrounding her that the Doctor couldn’t stop staring at her. 

“Doctor? You done with the potataes?” And then there was her accent. At first when he heard it, it sounded like any other English accent. Bit more posh than Rose’s Cockney accent, more refined like royalty. But then there was that one moment where it had melted toward a North American one, less English and more country, southern, with all its horrors of dialects. 

It was a wonder he could even understand her at times. It was either posh British or a strange mix of southern and English that it strangled all other types of accents. “Yeah, I’m done with them. Mix in the flour and egg now, right?”

Sage smiled, “Yeah, you got it, Doc.” The Doctor smiled just as softly back.

The toaster dinged, and the moment was broken as the two of them jolted back into cooking. The Doctor coughed slightly, moving on from the awkwardness that had sprung up between them. Sage spread the mixture onto the bread, making sure that each slice had an even coating on it.

She popped one in her mouth, hauling herself up onto the counter as she chewed and watched the Doctor start to gather the dough and knead it. He had taken off his leather jacket somewhere in between this, and while it looked a bit odd, Sage thought the long sleeved henley suited him. He had rolled up his sleeves, already kneading the dough, then rolling it out and cutting it precisely. It seemed he did know his way around making gnocchi.

“Hey, Doctor,” she called, getting his attention, “try this.” She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand, a slice of bruschetta in the other. He came over to her, tilting his head, eyes wondering what she was gonna do.

“Open,” she told him, waiting until he complied with her, no matter how hesitantly. And she pushed the piece of bread into his mouth, the Doctor’s eyes full of surprise as they widened. She laughed lightly, pushing his mouth shut. “Chew, Doctor. Good, yeah?”

The Doctor chewed slowly, gazing at her like she was some sort of mysterious puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. He swallowed, the tang from the balsamic vinegar complementing the sweetness of the tomato. His tongue felt heavy, twisted and tied, and not from the bruschetta. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Sage grinned, open and free, and the Doctor smiled back at her. He leaned down on the countertop, miscalculating the distance and hitting open air, slipping on his feet as he tried to save himself. He only managed to hit the plate filled bruschetta, upending it into the air and hitting the Doctor head on, staining him and making a mess of everywhere. The both of them froze, the Doctor dripping with tomato and other ingredients from the appetizer.

The Doctor was internally panicking because he made a _mess_ , and his eyes were wide as he glanced between the mess on him and Sage sitting on the countertop. Her shoulders were trembling, and he was afraid that he had angered her when he heard her wheezing. His brows furrowed when he realized that she was holding back her laughter. 

Sage broke, shoulders shaking as she fucking cackled, head thrown back and peals of laughter, cacophonous yet endearing all the same, echoed in the kitchen that the Doctor couldn't help but join in, the both of them sharing the joy.

* * *

+1. _A little bit of history_

Sage pulled her hair up into a neat bun, smoothing out her clothes for the weekend. Mickey had wanted a rematch ever since she had soundly beaten him at a game of darts in front of all his friends just like she had promised she would do to him. 

She looked into the mirror again, giving herself a little smile and nodded, ready. Then her phone rang.

She pulled it out, blinking, puzzled when she couldn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

There was a grunt, and then a very gruff, very _familiar_ voice replied to her, "Abigail?"

Sage froze. Now that was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. "I don't know who you are, but you've got the wrong number. Goodbye."

A grunt then someone cried out in pain, "Abigail, Abigail, wait! Dammit. Abby, please!" There was the distinct sound of gunshots in the far distance. 

Sage's heart was fluttering in her chest, thumping hard against her rib cage. She could feel the stirrings of a panic attack forming as her breaths became short and uneven. There was another cry and a sharp crack. "Abby? Baby girl, you there?"

She choked on a sob, "Eliot? Eliot? What—?" There were a million questions running through her mind. How did he get her number? Why was he calling her? Why now after ten years? They had left each other. He had left Aimee with a fucking _promise_ ring, and it had been ten years since either of them had heard from him.

"Yeah, baby girl, 's me." Eliot's voice was gruff, hard and crackly, "Abby, Abby, listen to me."

There was a sudden cry and Eliot cursed. The line was filled with grunts and shouts as Eliot presumably beat the other person (people?) up. Her heart was in her throat as she could only hear as someone, she couldn't tell who, let out cries of pain. The line paused as all sounds of fighting and resistance stopped. There was a distant groan in the background, but all Sage could focus on was the heavy breathing in her ear and the pounding of her heart in her chest. 

"Abby?" Eliot's voice was quiet, breaths heaving and stuttering slightly. ~~God, it had been so long since she had heard that name. Nostalgia filled her head with cement and her heart with freedom.~~

"Yeah, yeah," Sage nodded, even though he couldn't see her, "I'm still here, Eli. What do you need?"

"I'm gonna hang up. Wait five minutes then open your balcony door."

"Eliot, I live on the fifth floor, what—"

"Dammit, Abby! _Please_. Jus’— jus’ listen to me."

"I—" Sage didn't like this. Whatever Eliot had gotten himself into, it was dangerous. It could kill her. 

And yet it could also save Eliot. This was _Eliot_ after all,and even if it had been nearly ten years, he was still her best friend. She would do anything for her friends. Her family. Even if it meant putting her head on a platter and serving it to their enemies.

Sage found herself nodding, already agreeing before she could properly think about it. "Alright, Eliot. Five minutes then open my balcony."

"Good, I'll see you then." He made as if to hang up, breaths more distant as the phone was pulled away from his ear, but her voice caught him just in time.

"Please be careful, Eliot."

There was a pause, and Sage thought that he had disconnected before the line crackled again. "Always am, baby girl. Always am." And he hung up.

Sage let out a long breath, throwing the phone away from her with a quiet clatter, and massaged her temples. Her heart started evening out from its fast tempo. Eliot had called her. Eliot had called her after ten years of no contact with either her or Aimee. Oh god, Aimee. Sage hadn’t spoken to Aimee either, not since the latter’s wedding back home. And that had been nearly two years ago. 

She hadn’t spoken to Aimee since. 

Did that make her just as bad as Eliot? The man had broken ties with home, but so had Sage in a way. She only emailed her younger brother a couple times a year, just to get a little check in out of the way. She doesn’t talk to her eldest sister at all anymore, her mother either. Aimee…. The two of them used to email each other all the time, back when Sage had just moved away from there and settled here. 

But then… but then life happened. _He_ happened. And there wasn’t any time to just talk and email. And her life had gotten so busy as she was getting her degrees. Which she had now. And she had a job now. She was successful. She was lonely.

Sure, she had Mickey and Jackie, and to some extent the Doctor and Rose. And there was an easy friendship with all of them, an ease and relatability that allowed her to form relationships with all of them. But they weren’t close. Or really _she_ wasn’t close to them. Not through any fault of theirs, but past experience had always taught her that all good things came to an end, and wow, she was cynical today. Eliot always had brought that out of her.

Aaaannnd now her mind was back on Eliot. The man who had enlisted in their last year of high school, gave her best friend a promise ring, and was never heard from again. He had made too many promises. 

And now he was back. And Sage was too overwhelmed with the fact that Eliot was back, _her_ Eliot that she hadn’t seen in ten years. He was back, and god she couldn’t even bring herself to hate him because she had done the exact same thing he did. Maybe it was different because she had tried to keep in contact with her old life, but she purposefully let it stop, she stopped trying. At least Eliot had the decency to stay the fuck away and keep it like that, even if he was back right now. 

There was a knock, and Sage spun to see a haggard and bloody looking man swaying on her balcony. Her eyes widened, and she practically sprinted across her flat to open the glass pane door. 

The door slid with a quiet strength, and Sage stood in front of her best friend, ~~her first~~ ~~love~~ , that she hadn’t seen in ten years.

He had a charming smile on his face that did nothing to distract her from his appearance. He was covered in blood, so much that she could smell the iron and it was dripping onto her balcony. Eliot was bulkier than she remembered, still the same height that she remembered though. He was swaying, and her eyes narrowed onto the bullet holes in his clothes and the hole in his left shoulder. “Hey, baby girl.”

Then he pitched forward, and she leapt to catch him in her arms, stumbling and barely keeping both of their balance with a grunt. “Eliot? Hey, Eliot,” she lightly slapped his cheek to see if he was awake, but he was out cold.

She scowled. “Dammit, Eliot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this... was not at all how this chapter was supposed to end. Kudos to you if you know exactly who Eliot is because I am Obsessed. and I can do what I want I'm the author here.
> 
> also the plus one was supposed to be Sage entering the TARDIS and the Doctor being like 'wtf are you doing here, we're midflight' and Sage is like 'baking a cake' but fuck me sideways, part of Sage's backstory just wanted to come out (ha) now. i did not intend for this, but well, what writer ever does?
> 
> also how do you write flirting? because i don't think that scene was flirting at all.
> 
> I still do not know POV, do not @ me. Please leave me a review on what the hell this chapter is, because I sincerely don't.


	8. A Blast from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage always wondered what had happened back at home, if any of her old friends and family missed her. What would happen if she came home as a surprise? 
> 
> Well, this was certainly a surprise.

So her best friend from ten years ago called her, which only made her question just how he got her number, asked her to open up her balcony door and then immediately fainted into her arms from presumably blood loss and/or exhaustion.

Everyone caught up? Because Sage certainly wasn’t.

“What the fuck, Eliot?” She had managed, with much difficulty, to drag Eliot to her couch, dumping him onto the sofa. Eliot had groaned but didn’t wake up. She got straight to business, stripping him of his shirts and bloodied pants (thank god all that blood was dry) and ripping them into strips of fabric.

Propping him up on the arm rest, she sloppily bandaged his right arm, restricting and stopping its blood flow. She tried to do the same with his shot shoulder, managing somewhat to stop that blood flow. She tried to push away the fact that it was her best friend shot up and bruised and cut on her sofa, thinking methodically instead.

“Okay, okay, okay.” She stood up, smoothing her clothes, only to smear the blood onto them. She went to her open balcony door, rushing to close it and draw the blinds, darkening the room and she turned on her own lights to illuminate Eliot. “Supplies. I need supplies.” Sage hesitated, not wanting to leave Eliot alone when he was bleeding out. She shook her head. Eliot needed bandages, not her hovering.

She slapped the lights on and ransacked her apartment, tearing it apart looking for anything to help. She growled in frustration when her search turned up empty. “I don’t have any bandages. Why the fuck do I not have any bandages? Or even needle and thread?”

Her cell rang, and she groaned. Mickey. Fucking fuck _fuck._ She forgot about Mickey. She fished her phone out of her pocket, ignoring the copious amounts of dried blood covering her. Shakily, her hands slipped as she tried to dial the number and she jolted when the phone rang.

She didn’t hesitate, accepting the call. "Mickey? God, I’m so sorry. I can’t—”

“Hey, mini-Me!” A familiar voice said cheerfully, and Sage blinked in surprise, pulling the phone away from her ear to look at the number. There was a mini TARDIS as the icon and a string of numbers that did not have any area code she could recognize. Time travel, _of course._

“Still there?” her future self asked when Sage put the phone back to her ear. She didn’t get a chance to reply when future Sage barreled on. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. In a few minutes, your doorbell will ring. Open the door, and there’ll be a box filled with supplies. Gauze, bandages, rubbing alcohol, needles, surgical thread, the works. All that good shit, yanno. Use it on Eliot, you know how. Trust me.”

“O- _kay,”_ Sage, the Sage of the present, said slowly, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her best friend was in her apartment.

“Great, right now Eliot doesn’t know about time travel. So he’ll think that you guys met back in ‘03 in Myanmar after you saved him from a sniper.” Sage blinked because what the fuck could she say to that? “Yeah, that was a fun day. Reuniting with Eliot for the second first time, really bizarre, timey wimey shit. I called Mickey for you, so you don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, I have to go, can’t let Eliot bleed out after all. I’ll call back later. Have fun reminiscing. Have the tissues ready. Good luck!”

“Wait—” but future Sage had already hung up before she could get a word in, and she growled, pulling the phone from her ear to see the disconnected icon. She didn’t try to call back, her doorbell already ringing. Tossing her phone aside, she went to the door, opening it and feeling very, very glad that no one was in the hall. The blood stains all over her would be difficult to explain.

She grabbed the box, setting it on the countertop as she grabbed a knife. She stabbed it open, aggressively tugging the flaps apart and looking inside. The contents were exactly what future Sage had told her, medical supplies of the finest degree. There were some clothes too, and she would hazard a guess that all of them were Eliot’s size. She sighed, setting aside an outfit for Eliot later, tossing ice packs into the freezer and heading to the sink and washing her hands, vigorously scrubbing them clean with soap.

Pulling on gloves, she gathered what she needed, setting them down near her. Kneeling down beside Eliot, she gathered Eliot’s long hair, tying it in a crude ponytail with one of the hair ties around his wrists. She then untied the rudimentary knots, sighing out in relief when the bleeding seemed to have slowed down. She set to cleaning the wound and dried blood. Then after fives tries in threading the needle, she successfully managed to do it, pulling up memories of a past she wished she could forget.

She took a deep breath and did her job.

Rolling up the rest of the unspooled thread, she wiped the sweat from her forehead, pulling off her gloves. Seven stitches, not so bad. But that was only one wound. Her eyes wandered to Eliot’s shoulder, sneering at the amount of blood that had seeped through the torn pieces of fabric just to stop herself from recoiling and shrinking in on herself. She pulled on a new set of gloves, and untied the fabric.

“Fuck me. Really, Eliot? A gunshot wound _and_ a knife wound. Wounds? Jesus, when you wake up, I’m gonna be the one to kill ya, not these pansy ass bullshit wounds.” She hissed in sympathetic pain when the cloth was ripped from Eliot’s skin, pasted on by dried blood.

She scrubbed the wound clean, disinfecting it. Picking up tweezers, she gagged slightly as she tried to find any stray bullet pieces. Gently as she could, she turned him around, squinting and smirking at what she saw. An exit wound. “Eliot, you lucky bastard. Seemed that the bullet went clean through,” Sage squinted, her glasses fogging up slightly. “Maybe I should’ve put on my contacts instead. Fuck. Whatever, too late now. But this makes my job easier.”

Stitching it up, she was glad that the bullet seemed to miss any major arteries and bone. Made her job a _helluva_ lot easier. Sage sighed, finishing up the last stitch with a snip of her scissors. She stripped off her gloves, dressing his wound as best she could.

“I am not a medical professional, but you came to me for a reason and like hell am I gonna let you bleed out and die on me, Eliot. Not without my own chance to kill ya.” Sage blew out a long breath, standing up on shaky knees. She caught herself, steadying, and glanced at the clock. She lost three hours tending to Eliot.

She threw away the sullied supplies, stowing the cardboard box away just in case she ran into this kind of trouble again.

Sage headed toward the sink, scrubbing herself raw to clean herself and underneath her nails, skin pink and the water a garish red. Chancing a peek at Eliot, she was reassured by the fact that he was still unconscious. She pursed her lips, walking back toward him and squinting at his position. His neck was oddly supported, the wounds at least weren’t under any pressure. His back was twisted in an odd position when she turned him to clean one of his wounds.

Her nose scrunched up. Eliot was gonna wake up with a crick in his neck and complain. She was not in the mood for that at all. Sighing, she went and gathered a shit ton of pillows, gently and with much effort, propping Eliot up so his wounds wouldn’t be aggravated into a sitting position with pillows as his support.

With a little bit of effort, she pushed her coffee table out of the way, leaving it pushed against the wall. She then knelt down, pulling out the couch as delicately as she could so that Eliot could lay down. Sage maneuvered Eliot into a lying position as tenderly as possible, adjusting so that he could lay comfortably.

Standing up, hands on her hips, she nodded at her handiwork. Eliot was propped up and surrounded by dozens of pillows in a weirdly misshapen cocoon of comfort. A loose blanket was laid on top of him for decency’s sake (especially since he was in boxers. She did _not_ want to see that).

She took that moment to take in Eliot’s prone form. He had gotten bulkier, more muscle on him than she remembered. His hair had gotten long, reaching his shoulders. A look that she hadn’t expected for him, but he pulled it off well enough. She supposed as well, it would make it more difficult to identify him with all that hair swinging in front of his face. Her eyes roamed over his body, a critical eye on all the scars there. Her lips pursed together, a scowl hiding more tears. Sage shook her head, all those were just evidence that Eliot had survived whatever hells he had gone through. Her jaw clenched, a throbbing forming at the back of her head.

Sage laid a hand on her forehead, a futile attempt at warding off the migraine. Heavily sighing, she went to take a shower.

The phone rang, and she cursed violently. Dashing as fast as she could, she picked up the call, glancing at the unconscious man in her living room. “What,” she bit out.

“Aw, mini-Me. That attitude is completely justified,” her future self’s voice grated on her nerves, and distantly she wondered if this was how everyone else felt about her. “Anyway, I told you that I would call you back, and so, here I am. I think I got between you and a hot shower, and for that I apologize.”

“Not accepted,” present Sage grumbled out and scowled at future Sage’s bright laugh on the other side of the call.

“Fair enough, I remember being grumpy about that too. Now, lemme explain a little bit more. Eliot just got out of… a situation. Remember the last day you saw him?”

Sage closed her eyes, going back in her memory. “He and his father got into a fight. That was the last time me and Aimee ever heard from him.”

“Yeah, enlisted right after he turned eighteen. No surprise there, right?”

“No,” Sage shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her face, “Eli always wanted to change the world…. Did he?”

The other side of the line was quiet. “...Yes, at first in the way only enlistment could then not in the good way because the world _sucks_ like that, but soon enough in three years in the best way possible…. He finds the family, the _partners_ he always needed. May not have had asked for it, but he found it anyway. And he saves the world for the little man, just like he always wanted.”

Sage pursed her lips, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyelids. There was a reason behind the stressed word, but she didn’t want to focus on it. Not right now. She took in a shuddering breath, pushing away the need to cry. “He’s happy?”

“Happiest he’ll ever be,” future Sage promised.

“Good,” Sage said, sniffling slightly, “he deserves it.”

“He does,” future Sage said softly.

Both of them were quiet, Sage taking in the information, vague as it was, and future Sage giving her the time to process. This was good. Sage had seen the haunted look in Eliot’s blue eyes, that split second he grinned at her, the scars littering his body when she had undressed him to get to his wounds. There wasn’t anything that wasn’t scarred. The guilt in Eliot was tantamount to how the Doctor looked at times, the few times he thought she wasn't looking. So getting confirmation that he was happy in the future... that gave her hope for her old friend.

She may not know exactly what Eliot went through (nor did she want to know, not unless Eliot wanted to tell her) but she could read the responsibility, the _guilt,_ that he carried in the stiffness of his shoulders, the drawn look on his face. Atlas may as well shrug off the world for as much as Eliot was already carrying it.

Head in her hands, Sage pulled off her ponytail, tears burning as they streaked down her cheeks. Misplaced guilt weighed on her own shoulders. What ifs could have-should have-would haves running rampant around her mind. What if she talked to Eliot that one night? What if she pushed Aimee and Eliot into mending their relationship? What could have happened? What could she have done differently? Should she have done something different? She should’ve talked to Eliot. She shouldn’t have shut him and Aimee out. Not after Izzie. What if she had talked to him after the argument? Would that have changed history? Maybe Eliot wouldn’t look so haunted with grief and guilt. Maybe Aimee wouldn’t have married someone else. Maybe the three of them could still be friends. Maybe—

“Shut up, brain,” Sage grumbled. This wasn’t the time to be melodramatic and focus on potentialities. Eliot was here. Focus on that.

“Anxiety?” future Sage said knowingly.

Sage grunted in agreement, the burgeoning headache worsening as she tried to keep herself from fixating and maximizing the worst case scenarios. A quiet groan from Eliot distracted her, and she rushed over to hush and calm him back to sleep. She laid a gentle hand on Eliot’s forehead, sighing in relief when it didn’t seem like he had a fever.

“A few more things I need to tell you,” future Sage said quietly. “Any cameras that saw Eliot, recorded him on his way toward your flat? All that’s gone. Deleted, back ups and back up back ups gone. So you (and Eliot) can be rest assured that none of this will get out to his enemies. I also told Mickey you were on your period, he nearly hung up on me after I said that, ha. But he said that it was okay, his pride was safe for another day.”

Sage huffed a laugh at that mental image, Mickey blushing beet red and stammering at being told that she was menstruating, rushing and tripping over his words of reassurance and desire not to know any details. It endeared him to her, and she smiled softly.

“Mickey was insistent though, wanted to buy you comfort things. I dissuaded him from coming over, luckily enough, but the box of supplies came from him—”

“Did you pay him back?” Sage interrupted.

Future Sage made a noise of offense, “Of course I did. Who do you think I am? Don’t answer that.” Sage had her mouth open when future Sage said that, and she closed it in amusement. “Anyway, like I was saying, remember to thank Mickey for that. And, Sage?”

She hummed, turning away from Eliot to focus her attention on the call. “His name’s Eliot Spencer now. He’s… infamous. _Talk_ to Eliot, okay? Do your thing. Listen and be there. You’re not there to be his crutch, but his friend, okay? But remember that you’re both your own person, though. You weren’t born to be emotional support to men who are too emotionally constipated to talk.”

“Speaking from experience?” Sage couldn’t help but smirk, wry and sad.

“You have no idea…. But you will. Cuz I’m you. Anyway be good, and make the right decision. Do what I would do, cuz I’m you, duh. Toodles!” The line ended, and Sage was left listening to the dial tone. She sighed, well. It’d be wrong not to take her own advice. Wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would she? That’d be the wrong sort of ironic, wouldn’t it?

She pocketed her cell, and then remembered that she was still in blood covered clothes when her pocket was crusted over with dried blood. She grimaced, tossing the phone onto her side table with a quiet clatter. She pursed her lips, the headache not going away but not worsening either.

With one last, long look to Eliot, Sage went to take a well deserved shower.

* * *

The shower had done her worlds of good, calming and relaxing her. She left her glasses in the bathroom and rubbed her hair dry with her towel, giving it a good tousle dry. She walked out of the bathroom, towel over her shoulders, and headed toward her kitchen, catching sight of a man by her bookcase who had been previously unconscious.

"Jesus fuck, Eliot, you were _shot_!" Sage said in exasperation, heading over to him.

Eliot had his arms up in peace, a fond smile on his face, "Hey, baby girl."

Sage rolled her eyes, getting a firm and gentle grip on him as she half dragged him back to the couch. "Haven't heard that in a while. I'm serious you need rest, or at least not stand up and lose _more_ blood!” “But you patched me up. You were always good with some needle and thread. You saying you did a bad job, baby girl?” The smirk on his face wasn’t quelled by her withering glare, but he allowed her to wrangle him back on the pull out couch. He laid down, smacking her hovering hands from doing anything else. She sat down heavily across from him, settling down into the armchair.

“What the _hell_ , Eliot?”

“What do you mean what?”

“I _mean_ that—” Sage cut herself off because what _did_ she mean? The future was mostly set. She met Eliot again for the second first time in a warzone. Neither of them had been prepared for it, at least she had gotten _somewhat_ of a heads up. Though a year and a place wasn’t that much of a clue. It was more than what Eliot had.

Piecing together what little she had, she drew up a mental timeline of this in Eliot’s perspective. Eighteen years old, angry with his father, his family, he left and enlisted. Didn’t tell anybody. Not his brothers, his friends, his _maybe_ fiancee. Just up and left. After his tour of wherever, he left. Went and got work wherever he could, security, hired man, hitter, retrieval, hired _gun._ Judging from the amount of injuries and the bullet wounds, he was a good one. Probably one of the best. _The_ best. Eliot would never settle for anything less. She saw Eliot’s stance on the balcony, guarded, stiff, _scared._ His eyes had been flitting around, eyeing the open space like he was waiting for someone else to shoot him. It was only when he had seen her that his guard relaxed even a little bit. And it hadn’t been a lot.

When he had stood up, when he had been at the bookcase, his body was angled away from the windows, face hidden. His arms were loose, but his feet had been squared, boots laced on again. His shoulders were positioned toward her hallway, where her bathroom was, so that meant that he heard the sounds of the shower. His head had been tilted toward her when she came out of the bathroom

He had probably been a mercenary, a wetworker. On the phone, she had heard multiple guns firing, but nothing from Eliot. The shots were further away, and the whistling of the bullets were getting close to the target, to Eliot. Jaw clenching, she closed her eyes and tried to remember the sounds the bullets made. Close range most likely meant hand guns, semi-automatic pistols if she heard the sounds correctly.

From the amount of gunshots she heard, she would estimate about ten, maybe twenty gunmen. That didn’t take into account the sniper sounds she heard either, at least two. AK-47, at the least. Not an AK-15, the sounds were too fast and further away than a 15 would sound.

The fact that Eliot had gotten out of that entire fiasco _while_ on the phone with her impressed her to no end. That gave her a bit more insight to the type of person Eliot became since they last saw each other. Skilled… and dangerous. But he was still Eliot, no matter the skills he picked up. Still the same man she knew, and since he took a chance with an old friend, one he hadn’t seen in years, to take care of him spoke a lot about his character. And hers for that matter.

~~The darker recesses of her mind wondered if she had heard Eliot killed all those men over the phone. Wondered how many people he killed, but then she looked at his eyes again. Those familiar blue, blue eyes that only reminded her of the Doctor, and she knew regret when she saw it. She saw it in the mirror every day.~~

The silence went on for too long when she saw Eliot fidget slightly, much as he tried not to, so she took a deep breath, centering herself. “Wetwork?”

Eliot jolted, and she could see the surprise in those blue eyes, the tenseness in those shoulders. “...Not anymore.”

Sage inclined her head in acknowledgement. So Eliot had been a mercenary/hitman before, but he wasn’t anymore. In a way that made Sage relax, settling into her armchair. “So what are you now?”

There was a familiar cocky smile playing on his lips, belied by the wariness in his eyes. “Retrieval specialist and hitter.”

Something deeper was behind those words, but Sage didn’t push. There was a time and a place to demand answers, and this wasn’t one of them. “Okay.”

Eliot’s smile fell, and his face went through a multitude of emotions that Sage couldn’t name before it finally settled on incredulous, “Okay? That’s it?”

“Yes?” Sage’s face morphed into confusion. What did Eliot expect from her? She had already mentally accepted Eliot, mysterious past and all. After all, he was still her best friend. They had grown up together, ten years wasn’t going to change that. “Something wrong with that?”

Eliot had his mouth open, ready to respond. But his mouth worked, no words coming out, only disbelief still on his face. He scowled. “Hell, Abigail. I tell you I used to murder people and all you say is okay?”

Sage’s face twisted. Eliot had said it. He had said it so plainly and so openly, and she wanted to be disgusted. She wanted to be mad, to be angry. With the way Eliot held himself, he was experienced. More than that, he _knew_ how dangerous he was to his enemies. But…. This was still Eliot. And she didn’t have the right to condemn him, didn’t have the right to crucify him. Not anymore. ~~There was, after all, still the confused love she held deep in her heart for him, the same love that burned her, scorned her. The love that she couldn’t explain. And well, love made fools of even the brightest of men.~~

“Well, technically I asked you two questions before I said that, so I didn’t _just_ say ‘okay’, Eliot.” Sage gave him a cheeky smile when he scowled.

“I definitely didn’t miss tha’,” he muttered under his breath. His scowl deepened, a glare in his eyes, but Sage knew Eliot well enough after all these years to see the relief screaming in his body. ~~It was the right call, she unwillingly thought. After all, what right did she have to judge? After everything she—~~ “Wh- what- what’s with the voice?”

“What voice? _My_ voice? Oh shit, right,” she coughed exaggeratedly. “Tha’ better, then, Eli?” Switching back to her natural accent wasn’t that hard, the rough and lilting sound of the south bringing back years of nostalgia. “Ya didn’ like my London accent?”

“Didn’t say that, just sounded weird comin’ from you, ‘s all.”

“Well,” and the long southern drawl that she tried so hard to suppress all these years was back, “hearin’ an American accent when I live in England don’t fly so well. Gives me more stares than I know what to do wit’, so I learned to adapt. Makes me stick out less.”

Eliot stared at her, blue eyes calculating. “Your hair’s longer.”

A grin stretched her face, “So’s yours. Ten years’s a helluva time, Eli.”

He twitched, hand trying and failing to be surreptitious as he pressed a hand on a bruise. Sage’s eyes narrowed on the movement, and she cursed. “Stay there. Don’t you dare move, Eliot Spencer.” She noticed him freeze at the name, eyes wide. “Let me get you a freezer pack, and Jesus, don’t you _dare_ aggravate those wounds’ o’ yours. I spent a helluva long time on those stitches, so if you tear any o’ them. I’ll tear _you_ a new one ya hear?” She stood up, quickly grabbing a freezer pack, wrapping it with a cloth, and handing it to Eliot, who immediately pressed it on one of his multiple wounds.

“You know I changed my name,” he said.

“I do,” she replied evenly. Her head tilted, a lopsided grin on her face that brought neither of them ease. “Did you know that I did too?”

Mutely he shook his head, “I didn’t get a chance to ask. I was getting shot.”

She huffed a small amused laugh, “Fair enough. It’s Sage now, Sage Tran.”

“You kept your last name.”

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t want anyone looking me up. Back home.”

Sage nodded. It made sense. If Eliot wanted to go off the grid, then he had to change his name so that no one would trace him back to his family, to back home. He had kept Eliot though, probably for sentimental reasons, just as she had. And Spencer… there were two options for that choice of last name. The gun or their home. Hell, it might even be both. Who was she to criticize? A new name meant another beginning, new chances, new opportunities, a new life. A chance to change the story. And now— Now it was a name drenched in infamy.

She looked at the time, later than she usually ate, but what the hell. This entire day wasn’t usual. She stood up abruptly, feeling Eliot’s eyes track her as she made her way to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, she hesitated. The beef she had saved was for Mickey and the Doctor. Separate occasions, of course. Lord knew that the two of them barely tolerated each other, and only did for two different reasons. But, she figured, this was going to be the first time she would see Eliot for Lord knew how long. And well, he brought back the fonder memories of home.

With a determined nod, Sage started preparations. She tried not to tense when she felt the eyes boring into her back. Her hands wanted to shake, but she refused to let such a blatant show of weakness overcome her. This was Eliot. But not her Eliot. Never her Eliot again. This was Eliot Spencer, someone she should be afraid of.

Funny that she wasn’t. Funny that she was.

What _was_ she? Was she scared? Was she curious? ~~Did she still love him?~~ She didn’t know where she stood with him anymore. And that scared her. But Eliot… Eliot never scared her. She knew him. She was certain of that. He may have changed somewhat, but the trust she had in him, and the trust he held in her, was still a powerful thing. Ten years was a long time after all.

“What are you making?”

She didn’t start when Eliot’s voice was closer than she expected. The proximity only made her want to shiver, but she focused on the meal she was preparing. “Chicken fried steak.” Sage didn’t have to turn to see the slight disbelief that Eliot must be sporting on his face now. “What?” she turned to raise a brow at him, daring him to speak. “Something wrong with that?”

Mutely, he shook his head. “Jus’... didn’t expect that.”

“Long time since you ate it?” She asked lightly, treading between bad memories and good ones. She could remember the last time she did. Not a memory she wanted, but one she got anyway.

“Homemade anyway. Need help?”

Her eyes flicked to his, seeing the earnest curiosity and sincerity in them. Eliot looked like a mess. Her chin jutted out in a jerky nod, and he took over the other preparations. She didn’t let the surprise take over her body language. After all, she was the one who pushed him to take Home Ec with her, after some cajoling and bribing. She wasn’t that surprised that the knife skills from that class stayed with him. It was a necessary life skill after all.

It was almost quiet, tense, in this kitchen with the two of them. There wasn’t much talk besides quiet warnings and murmurs of whereabouts. Sage didn’t know what she was expecting really. More tension? Accusations? Questions? But expectations weren’t what she needed right now. She shouldn’t pressure Eliot. She was his friend, not a cop. The meal. Chicken fried steak. What a weird combination. And yet, all it reminded her of was simpler times, love, Izzie.

Sage shook her head, hands trembling, not from Eliot this time.The plating of the meat, the finishing touches, all done by Eliot’s hand. He had taken command of her kitchen, and Sage was helpless to stop him. Her mind had checked out a long time ago, and she found herself sitting at her kitchen island, watching Eliot without really seeing. The lengths he went to, maybe that should be a surprise. But really, all she could feel was relief. She didn’t know if the memories or Eliot being here would be the thing that set her off.

A scrape of the plate in front of her made her blink, looking down at a steaming pile of meat that was varnished and decorated far better than she could ever do. The dish looked like it belonged in a fancy restaurant. “That’s new.”

Eliot tipped his head, “I had a good teacher. Same recipe though.”

Sage didn’t pry. The statement was loaded with history, both hers and his. She cut off a piece of meat, spearing it and shoving it into her mouth to avoid asking a stupid question, the morsel melting in her mouth as flavour and spice burst on her tongue. She let out a noise of surprise that made Eliot smirk. Swallowing, “If that’s the same recipe, then I wonder what it’d taste like if you changed it.” Eliot didn’t say anything, just continued to eat, a pleased aura surrounding him. “Mama would be proud,” she said quietly.

Eliot tensed, but he didn’t add on. He didn’t need to, shoulders relaxing. He finally looked calm. He was still wary, or at least cautious, in the sense that years of conditioning and training had taught him, but he didn’t look at her like she would throw him to the dogs anymore. She gave him a genuine smile, and he shot one back to her, quietly thankful. The two of them continued eating, quiet nostalgia and love filling the two of them with memories unbidden but not so unwelcome anymore. Sage finally knew where she stood.

* * *

“One week.”

“Six.”

“Two, and that’s it.”

“Three. Eliot, be reasonable. You’ve been _shot!_ _Twice!_ Bullet wounds take time to heal!” He pursed his lips, a dark cloud encircling him, casting a dark shadow on his face, making it more gaunt and drawn out. “Two,” he grunted out, blue eyes trying to stare her into submission and acquiescence.

Sage rolled her eyes, doubling down. If he thought he could glare her into agreeing with him, he had another thing coming. “Four weeks,” she crossed her arms, matching Eliot in expression.

Eliot crossed his arms as well, almost successfully pulling off the move without wincing. A barely there reaction that had his eyes flash in a bit of pain as he pulled his stitches, and Sage raised an incredulous eyebrow, but Eliot was resolute. “Two weeks.”

“Four,” she shot back just as strong. She shifted her stance, feet wide and shoulders straight. The two had moved out of the kitchen, settling back into the living room with only a sliver of tension still between them.

“Two.”

“Four weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

Sage raised a brow, small smirk threatening to break free, “Two.”

“Four weeks and that’s it.” Eliot froze at what he said, blue eyes wide as Sage grinned widely in triumph.

“No going back on your word now, Eliot!” She crowed, Eliot scowling profusely at her, no doubt cursing her in his thoughts. “Hell, I can’t believe you still fall for that,” Sage cackled. “I haven’t done that to you since—”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that statement, Sage Tran,” he growled out, finger pointing at her in mock furiosity.

Sage’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Don’t call me that.” “What, your name?” Eliot had raised a brow at the request.

She made a noise of discontent, “It sounds… wrong, coming from you.” There wasn’t a better explanation that Sage could offer. The sound of it, his southern drawl twisted the name, rubbing her the wrong way. It felt like a cruel imitation, a cheap fake after eighteen years of cultivated friendship and ten years of its abstinence.

It sounded like her death.

“I don’t like it. I’m glad that you were ready to adapt and call me by my chosen name, but you can call me Abby, Abigail, whatever. That’s fine. But if you ever mention me to your… allies, I guess you would call them, use Sage.”

Eliot searched her face for something she couldn’t figure out. His eyes softened, just so, content with what he found, “I don’t know why you care so much about how long I stay. I’ll heal either way.”

“Because I love you, duh,” she said before she realized what words fell out of her mouth, the words coming easy. Sage froze. Eliot froze. The two of them stock still in the simple admission.

Sage abruptly changed course, stiff, heading back into the kitchen. Her mind was spinning, circles and circles in dizzying thoughts. The words she had carefully and deliberately buried had come out, clean and simple. It tore at her, the barriers she had fortified earlier in the evening, lost with five short words.

Viciously, she scrubbed the dishes sparkling clean, the glass in her hand undergoing a particularly thorough treatment. Thoughts whirled. She hadn’t meant to let those words slip, those thoughts kept under lock and key. Eliot had always been the proverbial thorn in her side, the thief in the night, stealing away at her defenses.

Spin, spin, spin. Her thoughts had never been so reckless, so loud. She had thought she had done away with all of them. The love burning within her for Eliot had subsided years ago, her first love, her first crush, something the two of them never explored, curious though she was, confused as she was. Aimee had been the first factor. He had promised to marry Aimee. He loved Aimee. The first flame that had never gone out.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it. Eliot still loved Aimee, just not like he did before. It was young love, fleeting but not final. Remembering the man that had stood in her kitchen, that had sat at her table, her couch… he was not the same man that made that promise to Aimee. He was grown, transformed, different. But he still held the same morals close at hand, she saw it. She _felt_ it. In her heart, her soul, in every fibre of her being. Eliot may be a killer, but he wasn’t a senseless murderer. And wasn’t that a comforting thought.

Sage could not proclaim herself to be a saint. Hell, she would protest that to a violent degree. A good person, well, that was debatable. Her mind drifted, as it was wont to do.

Spin, spin, spin.

She loved Eliot.

Spin, spin, spin.

She loved Aimee.

Spin, spin, spin.

She buried her love.

Spin, spin, spin.

It wasn’t right.

Spin, spin, spin.

Yes, it was. Love would always be for the brave. And Sage…? Sage… didn’t know if she was brave. Certainly not brave enough to face the man she loved, who, as she last remembered, loved the woman she loved as well.

By god, her heart hurt. It ached. It wanted to rip itself from her chest. And she only had herself to blame.

Her hands clenched tightly around whatever ceramic was in hand, the dish more than clean and sparkling. Her knuckles were white with the deathly grip, and she clenched her jaw, teeth gritting horribly as she tried to draw back a snarl. A beastly and guttural thing that reared its head in her chest.

God, she hated herself sometimes.

There was movement out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t care, so wrapped up in her thoughts. _He_ had brought this ugly thing out of her in the last few years of their relationship. It consumed her some nights. The lasting impressions _he_ had etched into her. The scares, the _scars_ , literal and mental. Her psyche was riddled with them now, and she couldn’t enjoy going to the pub anymore, not with the lingering effects _he_ gave her.

Something latched onto her wrist, and she flung whatever was in her hand wildly. She struck out, lashing at _him_. Oh god, _he_ was back. _He_ was here. _He_ was going to _kill_ her. Fuck! Shit! Fuck! “Sweetheart,” _he_ crooned, and she let out a yelp, heart racing, scratching at the hand clamped firmly around her wrist.

Run, run, run. _Get away._ Escape. He’d kill her.

Her hands groped around for a weapon, not registering that the grip around her wrist was gone. Her thoughts were scrambled. _Escape, flee, attack_ ran through her mind. Her breath was short, gasping, chest heaving as her mind sunk to its darkest and most primitive recesses.

“Please. _Please._ God, _no_. Jonah, don’t do this. Lemme go! Let me _go!_ ” Something sturdy was gripping on her upper arms, restraining her from doing any damage, from escaping. Her fingers scrambled for purchase, to scratch, to harm, to do something, _anything_ , that would save her from her assailant.

Sounds rushed through her head, noise and words she couldn’t comprehend, that she didn’t _want_ to comprehend. All she could think was that _he_ was back and she wouldn’t ever be free of _him_.

Something dropped her. Or she fell. She didn’t know. Sage scrambled backwards, trying to find purchase. Her back hit a wall hard, and she was backed into a corner. Her vision blurred, tears? She didn’t know, she just couldn’t see, someone was in front of her, a mass of muscle and brawn.

Who was it? _~~Breathe.~~_

 _ ~~Breathe!~~_ Who was here?

A rush of words reached her ears, calm and steady, and Sage found herself mimicking the exaggerated notions of the other. Her mind was still racing, but the repetitive actions were making her think of something else, _anything_ else other than the haunted memories of the past.

Her chest was heavy as the sound of blood rushing in her ears drowned out whatever other noise there were. Heaving breaths still tried to escape from her, and she felt suffocated, drawing in breath after shaky breath. _Breathe, damn you, why can’t you **breathe?!**_

There were words that she couldn’t hear, noise, attempts at being soothing, calling out to her to calm down, to relax, to come back to herself. _Breathe, breathe, **breathe!**_ And she tried, she took in breath after exaggerated breath, steadying her accelerating heartbeat to one much more steady and normal.

Jonah was gone, she reminded herself, trying to get her bearings straight. He could never touch her again. He was _gone_.

“That’s it, darlin’,” a deep southern drawl was the first thing Sage heard as awareness came back to her slowly. “You’re safe. Come back to me. You’re in your apartment, and no one wants to hurt’cha. You’re safe.”

Sage’s shoulders relaxed minutely, recognition shocking her out of the rest of her unawareness. That was right, Jonah was gone, and she was _safe._ Eliot was here, not Jonah. Eliot was here. Sage was safe. Sage could _breathe_.

Clarity swan forward, deep blue eyes staring at her with a mix of concern and righteous anger. Sage hid a wince, feeling winded and like a bus had hit her. “Sorry,” her voice came out scratchy and Eliot stood up swiftly, procuring a glass of ice water for her. She took little sips, not really feeling thirsty but knowing better than to follow that line of thought. The shock of cold that followed from each sip refocused her, letting her centre back to herself. Wordlessly, Eliot handed her a tissue and she wiped at the remnants of tears and residue on her face, crumbling up the paper and stuffing it in her jeans.

“So, I guess we should talk then,” Sage said, circling the top of the glass of water with a finger. She was fixated on a spot on her kitchen floor, a grease spot that she had never been fully able to get rid of. Eliot made a noise of assent, not moving either.

For several, tense moments, neither said a word, letting the silence ring through the tiny kitchen as they both tried to gather their thoughts. Neither wanted to break the silence, neither wanted to dredge up years of bad memories and horrible trauma.

Sage pursed her lips. Why? Why couldn’t she let this go? It was almost five years since she had thought about him. Five years since that dreadful relationship. Her heart ached at the memories, a younger her more curious, happier and coy. “I was…” she couldn’t quite put into words what she knew to be true. Admitting it meant that it had happened, that it was real. “I dated— someone. Someone I thought I was going to marry. But then he— he—” The words, forced and staccatoed, were carving scars into her mind, wounds into her heart.

The man had damaged her more than she cared to admit. She couldn’t stand certain things anymore because all it did was remind her of _him,_ of simpler times, and innocent years. She can’t even enjoy a good _beer_ anymore because of _him._

“Wasn’t the man you thought he was,” Eliot said, a statement not a question.

Sage nodded briskly. She had been fooled, she and her friends by what a perfect picture the two of them had made. It was slow. Creeping and masking and— It was bliss.

And what did they say about bliss?

“He left me scarred and broken, more than you ever did,” she paused, seeing Eliot frown, but he didn’t say anything, a tilted head of acceptance. “He was great…”

“Until he wasn’t,” Eliot filled in what she couldn’t finish. His tone was devoid of any of the pity or slight scolding she was used to when she tried to explain her past and relationship. There was only acceptance and understanding from Eliot, blue eyes dark and stormy.

“He gone?” And a ghost of a smile graced Sage’s face when Eliot nonchalantly flexed his hands, still wrapped in bandages from his previous encounter. She knew that Eliot would go and destroy the man who hurt her if she asked.

“Yeah, he ain’t ever touchin’ me again,” Sage added, voice dark. Jonah was gone, forever. She had made sure of that.

Eliot grunted, nodding, “Good.” A moment’s pause as Eliot looked at her, calculating. He seemed as if he wanted to say something but just didn’t quite know how to put it.

“Spit it out, Eli,” Sage said, resigned.

“He dead?”

Sage paused, slightly taken aback at the bluntness of the question, but she had asked him to spit it out. ~~Keep your cards close at hand, Sage, never let anyone know what you’re thinking.~~ “Yes, yes, he is.”

“You kill him?”

“Not on purpose.”

Eliot nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. An admission of her darkness but nothing else. No grisly details. No report of what had happened point for point. Acceptance. Nothing more, nothing less. Neither spoke again, the silence less hostile than before. He tilted his head at her, and Sage wondered what it was exactly that Eliot was thinking. Those deep blue eyes that reminded her of a man so alien that he was almost human.

The man reached a hand out, and Sage looked at it, then looked at Eliot, then back at the hand. A wry smile made its way on her lips, and she stretched up, clasping Eliot’s, and letting him help her pull her up. “Thanks,” she said, setting down her glass and dusting herself off.

“Always, baby girl.” There was a lot to unpack from that statement, but for once, Sage didn’t want to think. There was so much that Sage wanted to say, so much that she could tell that _Eliot_ wanted to say, but the weight of her panic was weighing down on her, and she was just so _tired._

Eliot fixed her with a sad sort of smirk as if understanding her exhaustion and hesitance. He pulled her in for a one armed hug, heedless of his injuries and her protests. The warmth emanating from Eliot almost made her shiver, but Sage didn’t push him away, sinking into the hug and melting like a puddle. It had been a long time since she had let anyone come so close like this, allow herself this sort of comfort.

Eliot dropped a kiss on the top of her head, silently letting her know that he was here, that everything would turn out fine, and Sage buried a relieved smile in the crook of his neck, content for the first time in a long time.

* * *

The four weeks that Eliot had stayed, after that disaster of a first night, was peaceful. Oddly enough, neither the Doctor nor Mickey had interrupted and she wondered just what had stopped them from inviting themselves over.

After that catastrophic night, Sage and Eliot talked. And talked. And _talked._ It had been the longest four weeks of her life, both of them tearing at each other. Ripping apart past wounds and soothing past hurts. She had been honestly surprised at the vulnerability that Eliot had displayed her. But after her panic attack, it was probably quid pro quo anyway. Eliot had been the perfect guest/roommate, making her lunch and dinner as she tended to sleep in now that it was summer. When he had gone, it tore her open again. She had, foolishly, gotten used to having Eliot back, having someone to come home to. Good things never lasted. Tears abound, but she let him go, knowingly and willingly.

Eliot had crushed her in a tight hug as a goodbye, the new scars on his body nothing more than a faded memory. She hoped that she wasn’t a faded memory for him. She kissed him on the cheek, punching him in the shoulder in an echo of past memories.

But the memories, _ache,_ that Eliot had left behind weren’t so prominent now. This time, both parties knew it was time to depart. It was their time to split. Their lives weren’t as connected anymore. They ran through different worlds now, his dark and shady, hers…. This, at least, had been a mutual decision between the two of them. Sage had known just what she had been getting herself into, somewhat. And Eliot knew that he couldn’t stay, not with the work he did.

That didn’t mean Eliot’s departure didn’t ache. And, she figured, it always would ache. Half finished business. Half finished greetings. Still full of love. Eliot had encompassed much of her childhood life. From the moment she was born to the day that they left. No matter how long and how far, the two of them will still have a hole in their hearts. It was up to them when they would let a flower blossom.

Her flat seemed emptier now that Eliot had left, and she wondered whether ghosts would haunt her again, like the first time. An ache that had scarred. But the ache wasn’t a throbbing reminder. No, more of a dull after thought. Sage sighed, sagging in her chair. Eliot had only just left, and this was how she felt right after. It made a pit form in her stomach that she didn’t like.

He had left in the dead of night. The cover of the dark masking his stay and his leave. Logically, she knew that he had to leave. Logically, she knew that he couldn’t stay. Logically, she knew that their lives weren’t intertwined anymore. No, her life was intertwined with another man now, a man just as dangerous as Eliot. A man who she…

Stop. No. She didn’t know. Not anymore. She wanted to stop thinking logically. She wanted to stop thinking at all.

A headache was creeping over her, and she massaged her temples in a weak attempt to ward it away. Maybe she should just pop some aspirin. There was a persistent knocking that throbbed in time with her headache, and she closed her eyes.

_Knock, knock. Knock, knock._

Her eyes flew open. That wasn’t from her head. Or maybe it was and she was hallucinating. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

It was not a hallucination. Pity. She might’ve preferred insanity to actual human interaction. One on one was fine. Maybe, depending on the one. It was a wonder she could do her job at all. Maybe she should’ve stayed as an excavator. Archaeologist. What was she again?

_Knock, knock, knock, knock._

Annoyed by the knocking, right. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Her grumbling matched the stomping she made to her door, almost yanking it open as her face settled into a scowl. “I swear if you—” Her words dried up in her mouth as she blinked at the person in front of her.

“I— Rose?”

A quick flash of a smile graced Rose’s lips, sheepish and shy. And that wasn’t right. Rose should never be this demure, this shy, this embarrassed. Sage may not know Rose all that well, but she knew that Rose was a bold and strong personality. The young woman in front of her wasn’t that, no, not a young woman. This was Rose, the nineteen year old girl, a little out of her depth. A small fish in a big pond trying to survive. Her heart ached, and Sage didn’t know if it was from pity for Rose or from the loss of Eliot.

“Can I come in?” Rose asked, too quiet and full of embarrassment.

“I— yeah, yeah, come in.” Sage opened the door wider with a dazed expression. Rose stepped in delicately, toeing her shoes off without a word, and Sage’s head spun, wondering who told her that fact about Sage. “Make yourself at home,” she said belatedly.

What was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I wasn't planning this either. Please leave a review down below and I will see _you_ next chapter!
> 
> Goodbye, bye, bye!


	9. A Blossoming Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage was the only one who knew the Doctor, the kinds of adventures that they went on, the danger. If anyone could understand, it would be Sage. And Rose needed someone to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'll update regularly since this is already pre-written, just need to edit the chapters to fit the storyline. Maybe I'll write a few exclusive chapters, all in the name of development of course.
> 
> Me now, looking at my three AO3 exclusive chapters in a row with what seems to be a fourth on the way and the fact that I am not updating regularly: so that was a fucking lie
> 
> **CHAPTER WARNINGS IN BOTTOM NOTE.**

Rose wrung the bottom of her shirt. She didn’t know what she was doing here. Here being in front of Sage’s flat, staring at her front door. That was a lie, she did know. Admitting it was another story.

She had just left her mother’s flat (well, Rose lived there too, in the past, before she had shacked up with an alien. Well, not literally.) and while she was grateful for her mother’s comfort she was also a bit overwhelmed by it. And it was her fault.

Rose had fucked up. Plain and simple.

She had let her emotions get the better of her. Her desire to see her father, while emotionally valid, had made her undermine the Doctor, throwing away his good intentions when _he_ was the one who had taken Rose to see her father in the first place.

The guilt was there. It felt like it was choking her sometimes. The kind but oh, so sad smile that the Doctor gave her after the whole ordeal, the understanding look. It _hurt_. It _hurt_ that Rose was the one who had hurt him, that Rose almost lost him, that _Rose_ was the reason for everything. And as much as she loved her mother, Jackie still didn’t agree with Rose traveling with the Doctor, no matter how competent Rose was.

She understood her mum’s fears. She _did._ But it was stifling. Her mother’s love. And it was so unfair of her sometimes to think that. When there were thousands if not hundreds of thousands that didn’t have the support that she did. But the feelings of others didn’t invalidate hers.

Rose needed someone to talk to. She couldn’t talk to Mickey. He had never approved of her going with the Doctor, her relationship with the Doctor. He would only continue saying what he always said, that the Doctor was a hack, that he wasn’t a good man. She wouldn’t get the sympathy that she needed. She couldn’t talk to her mother either for reasons already stated. And that didn’t leave Rose with many options. Who could she talk to? Charlene? Beth? Debbie? And tell them that aliens exist? Not to mention aliens that had the power to travel in time and take her to see her dead father? Yeah, right.

Letting out a long sigh, Rose knocked on the door twice. Night had fallen long ago, and she had slipped out when her mother had fallen asleep, feeling like she was a teenager again and sneaking out with Jimmy and going out to night concerts.

She knocked again when Sage didn’t answer. Sage wasn’t a sociable person. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t friendly. But the Asian woman had never been the type to seek out friendships and company. Rose noticed how Sage always kept to herself. That one trip where the earth blew up. Sage hadn’t tried to talk to anyone, but always had people around her. How people came up to _her_ when they wanted to talk.

Yet Sage was a powerful force nonetheless. Rose remembered how her mouth had dropped open when Sage had told her mum to shut up, the sheer power of Sage’s words defending the Doctor, demonstrating the horrors of the world and wielding the truth of it straight to her mother’s face (voice, whatever). Rose knew that Sage was a determined person, a curious one. The woman was older than Rose (though she didn't know by how much), so she clearly had some life experience, advice, anything, to help Rose with this.

She knocked again, getting antsy the longer she stood in the hallway. Sage was the only one who knew the Doctor, the kinds of adventures that they went on, the danger. If anyone could understand, it would be Sage. Rose knocked again.

There had been jealousy when Rose had first met Sage. Rose was a big enough person to admit that. It hadn’t been fair to ignore Sage, not when the woman had only been there by happenstance. Rose rapped on the door a bit harder this time, feeling a tiny bit of desperation leak through her, barely holding on from just breaking down the door.

She needed someone to talk to, someone who would offer advice, to not judge her, to understand her. The Doctor was much too pitying, and while she adored him he always got too defensive when it came to feelings, hiding behind a fort of walls. She felt like she would go insane if she didn’t talk to someone, her feelings willing her to burst open in a pandemonium of emotion.

Urgency ripped through her, the feeling of nakedness wrapping around her like a noose threatening to choke the life out of her. There was a sort of frenzied manner in the way she knocked once more, deciding that if Sage didn’t open the door then Rose would slip away again.

There was a rustling behind the door, a muffled noise that made Rose’s heart calm down. Sage was here then. An awkward smile was forcing its way onto her lips as Rose realized that this was the first time the two of them would be alone ever since they had met, the realization setting in and embarrassment creeping up. Rose had been desperate, _too_ desperate it seemed. Looking for someone who would help her.

The door yanked open, and Rose scrunched down awkwardly, feeling too exposed under Sage’s sudden scrutiny. “I swear if you—” Sage’s words halted, eyes widening as she took in Rose’s embarrassed face.

A flash of realization jolted through Rose. Sage had been expecting someone else, given the familiarity of that sentence. Jealousy struck her like lightning when the only people she could come up with was Mickey or the Doctor, the latter she doubted because Rose knew that the alien had left her to her ‘domestics’ as he called it when he had dropped her off.

“I— Rose?”

Rose smiled sheepishly, rubbing her arm in a mock attempt at self-comfort. She suppressed a shiver, feeling stripped bare as Sage took in her appearance, dark brown eyes raking up and down her form with a frown tugging at Sage’s lips. The Asian woman looked rightly shocked at the sight of Rose in her doorway, and Rose would smile at that if she didn’t feel so tired.

“Can I come in?” Rose’s voice came out raspier than she intended and broke off at the last word. She winced, not wanting to look so meek and young in front of Sage.

“I— yeah, yeah, come in.” Sage fumbled a bit as she tried to hold the door open and stand to the side, but Rose paid it no mind, delicately slipping under Sage’s open arm and into the apartment. Rose would be confused too when a virtual stranger knocked on her door. She hesitated a second when she stood in the front hallway of Sage’s flat before ultimately deciding to take off her shoes, leaving them neatly by the wall. “Make yourself at home,” Sage said, eyes still on her, quiet but appreciative.

Rose flashed Sage a quick smile, glad that her mum had told her about Sage’s peculiarities some time ago. Chancing a look around, Rose took in the features of the apartment. It was modeled exactly like her mum’s, but much more sparse. It wasn’t as cluttered as her mum’s either, homey but minimalistic. There weren’t any photos of Sage, nothing that said what kind of person lived here. Instead frames of random pieces of art lined the entrance hall. Some Rose recognized, others too obscure or were just landscapes.

Slowly, Rose meandered her way into the living room, taking note of the countless bookcases that littered corners of rooms. Bookcases stuffed and nearly overflowing with books and knick-knacks of various sorts lining the ends of the shelves. A bookworm then, not much of a picture person. Rose quirked a smile at the disarray of mementos and books, trailing her finger over the spines of books, tracing the fancy calligraphy of the titles.

Rose hadn’t noticed if Sage was following behind her, not feeling Sage’s piercing gaze following her every move. She strained, hearing several heavy thunks back in the entrance hall like someone hitting their head on wood and muffled muttering, and she frowned. It was concerning, but Rose still felt like a stranger in the flat, which she supposed she was.

She shook the feeling off, moving on from the bookcases toward a corkboard, almost hidden entirely behind the light green curtain of the balcony that was sloppily tied back. Lifting it up, Rose gasped in awe. There were polaroids and printed pictures of the countryside, landscapes of mountains, forests, lakes, monuments of statues, portraits of smiling people that Rose didn’t recognize, all taken with a degree of professionalism that Rose would’ve assumed that they were stock photos. Interestingly, none of the photos held Sage at all. But as her eyes roved across all the pictures, she felt the nostalgia and memories imbued within them all. They weren’t framed but Rose could feel the love pinned in each one of them, the care intertwined within.

The corkboard was almost stuffed with all the photos, but each seemed to have their own space. Her fingers hovered over each photo as if she could siphon the fond memories into her very being. There was one corner of a photo, hidden beneath all the others. Rose chanced a look behind her, not seeing Sage anywhere. She felt almost guilty, snooping in someone’s home, but Sage _had_ said to make herself at home.

It was a thin excuse.

Rose snooped anyway.

She lifted the other photos so that the hidden one could come into view. A younger looking Sage and a little girl that looked eerily like Sage stared back at her. Sage looked drastically different and at the same time looked exactly the same. Her hair was shorter, wavy and on the edge of curly, wisps of black hair hanging by her ears. So unlike the long draping curtains of hair that Sage liked to tie and pin back.

The little girl was squirming but smiling widely, a bob cut but still cute for a girl young as she with one front tooth still growing in and a few others already fallen out, pushing half-heartedly at Sage, who was laughing as she squished her little sister to her chest. Sage’s arm was outstretched, and the photo itself looked blurry as if it was taken while it was being shaken.

Rose immediately felt like she had intruded on a private memory that she had no right to discover. She let the others fall back to cover the photo of Sage and her sister again. Letting the curtain fall, she headed away from the corkboard of memories toward the couch.

There was a thick green blanket draped across the top of it, and Rose tilted her head. It was summer now, surely the blanket was much too thick to be comfortable. Pinching the fabric between her index and thumb, she made a noise at the texture, smiling and rubbing it.

“It was a gift.” The sudden declaration made Rose spin to face Sage, who was watching her, smile amused. Rose felt akin to a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Sage smiled at her, and tentatively Rose sent a smile back. God, hopefully Sage hadn’t been standing there for long. Rose hoped that Sage hadn’t seen her look at her photos. She gestured for Rose to sit down, “Tea?”

“Yes, please. Two spoons, ta.” Sage nodded, whirling out of the room toward the kitchen.

Hesitantly, Rose sat down on the couch, smoothing out the cushions. She crossed her legs, tapping an impatient finger on her thigh. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. She hardly even knew Sage, only through the Doctor, Mickey and her mother. The first hardly even talked about Sage, only urging Rose on the next adventure. Mickey and her mother never really talked _about_ Sage, just about the things they did with her. But Rose had never felt comfortable about that, so she had always changed the subject quickly, talking about a past adventure with the Doctor.

Now, she was regretting that. She wondered if her mother knew that Sage had a little sister. She wondered if Mickey knew who those smiling people were, wondered if Sage ever talked about her photos, if anyone even knew they existed. Her heart hammered as she jolted along with the whistle of the kettle.

She settled again when Sage didn’t immediately appear, uncrossing her legs and wringing her shirt between her fingers again. Why did she even come here again? Why did she think that this was a good idea? She didn’t know Sage, _at all._ This wasn’t a good idea. Oh God, she should leave. Oh but how could she? Sage had already made tea. It’d be bad manners—

“Sorry, had to let the tea steep a little, but I’ve already added the sugar. If you need more, just add it. I promise I won’t get offended.” Sage gave her a teasing smile as she carried out a tray with the steaming mugs and the necessary accessories. Rose felt herself relax at Sage’s reassuring posture as she set down the tray on the coffee table. Sage handed the mug over to Rose, who readily accepted it.

Offering a shaky smile, Rose thanked her, taking a cautionary sip. The tea warmed her whole body and let her settle a bit more into the couch, feeling the warmth take over her body. The tea was refreshing, a different flavour than she was used to, but still good nonetheless. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Sage beamed at her, but didn’t take a sip of her own mug, letting it set on the tray. There was quiet as Rose kept drinking her tea, stalling any other conversation. Sage didn’t seem to mind, busying herself with a book she procured out of nowhere, and Rose felt simultaneously relieved and guilty for Sage’s feigned nonchalance.

Rose saw Sage sneaking curious glances at her from time to time, but the woman seemed to otherwise be engrossed in her book, a hardcover with a title Rose couldn’t make out with its title obscured and its jacket gone. Rose settled into the quiet, letting her mind wander and the tea to warm her.

This was what she wanted, what she had needed. Rose loved her mother, but she couldn’t handle the tired sadness that was in her mother’s eyes everytime she brought up her father, the guilt that was in Rose’s own.

It had been her fault, after all. She had been the reason why her father died. Again. If she hadn’t insisted on visiting the day he died, again and again. If she hadn’t let the Reapers get the Doctor. If. If. If.

“I killed my father,” Rose said into the silence of the room.

To Sage’s credit, she didn’t look surprised or shocked, face composed of complete neutrality and Rose resented her for it. Resented Sage for her composure when her mind was in a maelstrom. Sage just calmly closed the book after marking her page, setting it beside the tray.

“How do you mean?”

Her grip tightened on the mug, knuckles white. Her vision was shaky. It took her a moment to realize that _she_ was shaking, hands nearly violently trembling. Her breath hitched, and she viciously shoved down the hot tears forming on her lashes. She resisted the urge to scrub them away, letting her head hang so she could rapidly blink away the latent tears. She couldn't cry in front of Sage. She _wouldn’t_.

Sage probably already thought of her as a child, and crying in front of Sage would only further cement the idea. Rose knew she was young, but she wasn’t inexperienced or _naive_. She may not have known the full extent of the adventures, but she knew it was going to be more than just fun and games. She wasn’t _stupid_.

“Rose,” Sage’s voice was gentle, and Rose trembled, but this time from anger. Her name was full of pity, of condolence and slight condescension. As if Sage was better than her, bigger than her. As if Rose was a child to be handled delicately. As if she was a scared and cornered animal that needed to be coaxed.

Her hands tighten around the mug that she wasn’t sure if she imagined the tiny cracking sound or not.

“Rose,” and here Sage’s voice was firmer, and Rose wanted to laugh. Sage didn’t sound so composed anymore, she sounded like the situation had begun spiraling and she is trying her damndest to right that. Or maybe that was just her. She was swaying. She didn’t want to be swaying. Or did she?

===

Warmth covered her hands, and she startled violently, splashing tea onto Sage’s hands. She couldn’t tell if the tea was hot anymore, any warmth having bled out long ago. She could feel the stickiness from the tea, seeping in over the coverage of Sage’s own fingers.

She wondered what she was trying to do. Distantly, she could hear someone saying something, tone quiet and gentle. She felt someone’s fingers doing something to her legs(?), and her skin _crawled_. The touch that was too much and too little all at once.

Something was taken away from her. What was it? Her hands (was it her hands? She couldn’t tell. It felt far away. Detached) reached out to grab it again, weak and fingers flexing. Something grabbed her. Or did she grab it? Where was she? What was happening? How did she get here?

She dug her nails deep into whatever she was grasping, the touch giving her something to focus on. She yanked it toward her, nails scratching and _digging_. Something gripped her back just as tight, grasp nearly bruising in its strength. She gasped, feeling transferring all to her arms. She couldn’t feel her body, any and all feeling completely centered in her forearms. Words. Words were being spoken to her.

She pitched forward (or was it backward?) to the source of the voice. She latched onto it, straining to make herself understand what it was saying. “—reathe— Tyl— bre— repea—”

None of the words made sense. Were they words? Forcing herself to listen, her feet flattened onto the floor. She focused on it, pushing her feet to feel the floor. It was smooth, flat, cold. “Tyler— Powe— Nam— breat—”

The words were processing in her head a bit more now. She pushed again, pushing herself. “Your name is—” What? What was her name? “—in… flat—” Oh, good. Those were full words. Were they words she knew? The faint wisp of it tingled the back of her mind. It was familiar but she didn’t know how.

She gripped harder on the arms. “—is 11:30 PM—” She blinked rapidly. Did she close her eyes? “Tyler.” Involuntarily, she gasped. That name. It was her name! But it didn’t seem finished, right, yet. “Repeat after me—” Repeat? What should she be repeating? “My name is—” She groaned. She _knew_ that. She did. What was it!

“Rose Tyler.” A shock jolted her. That was her. That was her name. That was _her_. _She_ was Rose Tyler. Her focus honed in on the words, pushing and pushing harder for comprehension. “My name is Rose Tyler.”

“M-my name is Ro-rose Ty-ty- _tyler_.” There! She did it! That was her! She— _Rose_ knew her name.

The rush of realization made her push to hear more. “I’m in Sage’s flat.”

“I’m- I’m in… Sage’s… flat.” The words rolled around her tongue, unable to curl around them and make them fit, making her mouth feel weird and Rose to be flat-footed.

“It is 11:45 PM.”

“It… is 11:45 PM.”

“Good, good, that’s great, Rose.” The female voice sounded relieved. “Can you repeat that for me?”

“My— my name is— my name is—” She wanted to shout in frustration. She knew it. She did! She just said it!

“Rose Tyler.” The voice said gently.

Rose latched onto it. “My name is Rose Tyler.” There! She did it. _Rose_ did it! “My name is Rose Tyler.”

“I’m in Sage’s flat,” the voice prodded gently.

“I’m in Sage’s flat.” Confidence filled her when she didn’t stutter that. “It’s 11:45 PM. My name is Rose Tyler. I’m in Sage’s flat. It is 11:45 PM.”

“Good, good. One more time for me, please?”

“My name is Rose Tyler. I’m in Sage’s flat. It’s 11:45 PM.” Clarity slowly came back to Rose. The grip she felt was knuckle white and she wanted to wince but found that she couldn’t bring herself to let go.

“You’re doing great for me, darlin’.”

(That accent…. That wasn’t British.) “I—” Her vision swan into focus, blinking rapidly for a sharper sight. Touch came slowly back to her. Body awareness sharpening so that Rose didn’t feel confined to just her arms anymore. A kind smile was the first thing Rose saw, the first thing she focused on. There were gentle, brown eyes watching her, but this time Rose didn’t feel the pinprick of scrutiny, only warmth filled her. Rose knew this woman. “Sage?” Her mind still felt foggy.

“Hi, Rose. Can you tell me five things you can feel, darlin’?”

“I—”

“It’s alright, just any five things.”

Feel. That meant touch. “I— hands. I can feel hands. Warmth. I’m warm. My hands are warm. Sticky. I feel sticky.” Rose blinked. “Um— soft. Something. Hair?”

“One more, one more thing you can feel.”

“You. I can feel you.”

Rose was rewarded by a dazzling smile that she felt compelled to hesitantly return. “Good, that’s great. Four things you can see?”

“Er. You. I see you.” Rose’s voice was slowly gaining its confidence again. She focused on Sage, eyes zeroing in on the woman in front of her. “Brown. Brown eyes. Black, black hair everywhere. Tied but neat. Glasses. Er— Mole.” Rose felt embarrassed for blurting out that last thing, but she couldn’t take it back now.

A brilliant smile encouraged her. “It’s alright. Three things you can smell?”

“Sugar? Tea. Erm black?” Sage only smiled and nodded encouragingly. “Blood.” Rose startled at the word that came out of her mouth.

But Sage didn’t let her think too long about it. “Now two things you can hear?”

“Crickets chirping. My heartbeat."

"You're doing fantastic. Final thing now. One thing you can taste."

"...sugar." Rose had to remember what the word was, the tacky taste lingering in her mouth, but she figured it out and she smiled. Proud of her capability to remember.

"Marvelous, Rosie. Can you tell me those first three things I told you to say?"

"My name is Rose Tyler. I'm in Sage's flat. It's 11:45 PM." Rose was entirely confident in herself now. Feeling startled her back into her own body. Tingles running up and down herself. Her hands ached, and she looked down, eyes wide.

Her hands were tightly gripping Sage's forearms with Sage's own hands tightly clasping her wrists, firm and steady. Rose's nails were digging into her skin, and she could see the scratches and nail marks producing blood, dry though they were. There was a faint mark on Sage's hands, red and warm. With a yelp, Rose let go as if burned, pressing herself deeper into the couch. She hugged herself tightly, not wanting to accidentally injure someone again.

"Rose, I'm _fine_. I'm okay."

"You're bleeding!"

"Actually the bleeding stopped a while back, so no, not really. Don't worry it doesn't hurt, Rosie. Do you remember what happened?"

"I—" Rose wracked her brain. She remembered knocking on Sage's door. She remembered being invited in for tea. She remembered the photos. She remembered— "Oh. I told you I killed my dad."

Sage didn't blink, nodding seriously. "That was over three hours ago." Sage had said it gently, but it still felt like a slap to the face. Rose lost over _three_ hours to… whatever that was.

===

"What _was_ that?" Rose croaked out, suddenly feeling entirely overwhelmed.

"Well, that answers my next question," Sage said. "You dissociated, Rose."

"I— what? What does that mean?"

"You had an out of body reaction is the best I can say. I've never had episodes like that, only panic attacks. So I don’t really know much more than the general. My friend has though, so that's how I knew how to help. Do you like mint?"

“I—” the sudden turn of conversation made Rose’s head spin. “I guess. I don’t _hate_ it.”

Sage pulled out a tiny wrapper, its container bulging with a mint-white Polo. “Here, eat it. It has sugars in case you lost any, gives you a sense to focus on.”

"I'm not crazy. I'm _not_." Rose tore open the wrapper, viciously popping it into her mouth and sucked. The cool flavour grounded her, and it revolved around her entire mouth, making her taste-buds tingle. It refreshed her, she thought, a real lifesaver.

"I never said you were," Sage replied calmly. "And you're not. Just because you dissociated doesn't mean you're crazy. I get panic attacks. Anxiety attacks too sometimes. Am I crazy?"

Slowly, Rose looked over Sage. The woman was calm, eyes holding steady with Rose. "No, no, you're not."

"And neither are you, Rose." Sage gingerly stood up, regaining her balance from her kneeling position, stretching her arms upward. Rose's eyes caught the rivulets of dry blood on her arms, the deep red scratches engraved into the skin, how it looked wicked in its sudden reveal and she winced.

"I'm sorry."

Sage caught her eyes, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I’m a deft hand at these kinds of things. I’ll be fine.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

There was silence as Sage only looked at her. The woman tilted her head, eyes contemplative and dark. A smile bloomed on Sage’s lips, small and encouraging. “Tell ya what. It’d be far easier for me to have someone who can help me with my right arm. Cleaning with my non-dominant hand can be a bit of a hassle.” She nodded at a cardboard box next to one of the bookcases. “Grab that, it has all my kits.”

Eagerly, Rose went to do as Sage bid, hoping that this would alleviate her guilt at practically mauling Sage. The box had been heavier than she had anticipated, and Rose grunted as she hefted it in her arms, wobbling but secure. Setting it down, Rose waited as Sage pulled out a few things, settling down on the left side of Rose.

“None of these are deep enough to be considered dangerous. It won’t scar, and it would only take a couple days for it to heal completely,” she said, pulling out a rag and a water bottle. “Get the towel wet, and clean the blood please. I’d rather not have dried blood on me any longer than I need.”

Glad to have some direction, Rose wet the towel, and Sage held out her right arm, which Rose took gingerly, wincing at the sight. She gently wiped away the blood, switching to the other arm, taking painstaking care to clean both, the rusty red disappearing immediately, washed away by their perpetrator. What remained were crescent shaped marks from Rose’s nails. Rose turned Sage’s arm this way and that, noticing how the bleeding had already stopped and that the scratch marks were nothing more than raised, slightly irritated skin. Oddly enough, she wanted to poke it, see the extent of her damage.

Rose refrained, of course, just barely.

She set aside the towel, awaiting for some more direction. Sage gave her a smile, “I don’t really need anything else. It’s already starting to scab over, the blood is all gone, you washed everything away and I doubt there’s risk for infection.”

“Don’t you need a plaster?” Rose asked, tilting her head. She knew that when she scraped her hands or knees that her mum would typically give her a plaster to cover it.

“I don’t _need_ it. The band-aid’d only be there as a sort of placebo.”

“No, plasters can prevent infection and dirt from falling into your body. Put some on,” Rose demanded. She didn’t want to be the reason Sage got sick. And she _definitely_ didn’t want Sage to get her scratches infected because Sage was too stubborn.

Sage had a look of amusement on her face, but Rose didn’t let that deter her, rummaging in the cardboard box of supplies. Sage placidly let Rose plaster on the adhesives, smiling at her when Rose rolled her eyes.

The two sat quietly for a bit, Sage with her arms covered in tiny plasters and Rose with blood caked under her fingernails. The Polo had long since dissolved to a nearly there aftertaste, the hint of mint remaining on Rose’s tongue. A moment passed before Sage slowly stood up, and Rose laid a somewhat trembling hand on her thigh, stopping Sage from standing all the way up.

Softness filled Sage’s eyes, and Rose hated it. She hated how gentle Sage was treating her, how delicate. She wasn’t a _child_. She didn’t need coddling. But after that whole… thing, Rose may not need coddling, but she did want company.

“I’ll only be putting away the towel and my supplies and getting some water. I don’t know about you but I’m rather parched.” There was a crooked smile on Sage’s face, but none of the pity that Rose had thought was going to be there. Reluctantly, she nodded, lifting her hand.

“Thanks, Rosie,” Sage hesitated but seemed to steel herself and rustled Rose’s hair, the wavy curls falling into Rose’s eyes. Rose stared at Sage’s retreating back with wide eyes, touching the top of her head in a bit of a wonder. She had not expected such a familiar and familial action from someone who tore chunks of flesh from Sage’s skin.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be so surprised. That picture had showed a little girl, Sage’s sister, and maybe that was where the familiarity came from. Sage appeared out of the kitchen, carrying two bottles of water, chilled from the sight of the condensation surrounding it.

“I can only drink cold water,” Sage offered as an explanation, handing over a bottle. “Well, I _can_ drink room temperature or warm or hot or whatever, but I prefer cold.”

Rose nodded, cracking open the seal and gulping it down. The water surrounded her mouth, elevating the lingering taste of mint and causing her to feel tingles on her tongue. “Thanks,” she tried for a smile, capping the bottle. Rose fiddled with it for a moment. Sage had said that she had a friend who went through something like her, that Sage herself went through something similar.

But should she bring it up? What if it only brought back bad memories? It would sour the tentative reprieve that Rose had gotten from her previously tumultuous mind.

Sage seemed to be one step ahead of her, “Speak your mind, Rose. I promise I won’t bite, and if you ask something I don’t want to answer. I won’t. Easy as pie.”

A sheepish smile crept its way across her face, and she rubbed the back of her neck. She mumbled, not making eye contact, “You said something about you experiencing panic attacks? Why do you get them?”

“Oof, startin' with the hard questions first, huh?” Sage joked, a half grimace half smile on her face.

Rose instantly felt guilt flood her. “You don’t have to—”

“No, this one’s fine, just not a fun memory.” Sage gave Rose a morose smile, “My baby sister died.” Rose choked, not expecting that. Her mind’s eye cast back to that little picture again, the youthful smiling faces of that little girl, forever trapped in that moment, unable to predict her grim ending. Something thick lodged itself into Rose’s chest, cloying and strangling.

“It wasn’t my fault.” Sage continued, as if Rose wasn’t there, the words spilling out, controlled yet unable to stop. “At least directly. I didn’t hit her, murder her or anything like that. And logically I _know_ that it wasn’t my fault. But it still _felt_ like my fault. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. I had nightmares for years, perpetually dreaming that day over and over again, unable to help her. My name on her lips, screaming for help.”

The words were clipped, clinical. Rose would think that Sage was unaffected entirely if it weren’t for the slightest of trembles of her shoulders, the grip on her own thighs, holding them down. Rose felt guilt well up inside her again, foolishness the only other feeling that seemed to Rose tonight.

“Needless to say, the panic attacks came soon after.” Sage turned her head to stare directly at Rose, and Rose felt entirely bare at Sage’s gaze, pried wide open and searching for something. Rose coughed, ducking her head, curls bobbing to hide from that dark gaze.

“How—” she coughed, searching for a delicate way to ask. “How old was…?”

“I was sixteen, she was nine.” Sage turned away, staring straight ahead, eyes glazed behind her glasses.

“And now you’re…”

“I’m almost 28.”

Rose sucked in a breath. Over ten years ago. Rose was barely born when Sage’s sister died. There was a jarring feeling when Rose realized that Sage’s sister was older than Rose but died younger than her. She felt a pang of hurt, an ache that resonated deep within her chest, and she reached out to comfort Sage in an attempt to comfort herself, a hand on the other’s thigh. Sage looked down, bemused at the touch, but still allowed it, Rose squeezing.

Should she say sorry? What _could_ she say to that? It felt insensitive to apologize. She was the one to ask. Just because she couldn’t quite handle it didn’t disregard that Sage had answered her question even if it meant sacrificing a bit of vulnerability. And she could hear the _Why are you sorry? You didn’t kill her_ dangling in the air from Sage if she _did_ say it.

“My dad died when I was a baby,” Rose finally said, unsure what else to say. “My mother always told me that he loved adventures, that he would love to see me now, that he was the greatest man in the world.” She looked down at her lap, hands curling into fists. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything. “She told me that no one was there when he died. A hit and run, so close to home. That he died when the ambulance got there.”

“So you wanted to be that someone,” Sage concluded softly.

Rose shot up at that, eyes narrowing at Sage, whose face was carefully neutral, looking for all the world detached. Carefully, she nodded, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth as she mulled over her next few words. “I did. And I had the chance, with the Doctor and his TARDIS. I could be that someone. I _am_ that someone.”

Sage was watching Rose carefully, but the latter didn’t care about that right now. Her words were being pulled out of her, tumbling out with no concern for Rose. “I— I have two memories of the whole thing now. I remember how _sad_ mum was. How regretful she was because the first time, the first time—” Rose choked, hands tightening and she could see how white they were, losing feeling and blood flow.

A tanned hand swam into view, curling over her fists. It gently pried open Rose’s clenched hands, lacing between Rose’s and entwining their fingers. Rose blinked but didn’t comment, instead squeezing Sage’s hand, not unlike before but gentler this time, a reminder that she wasn’t alone. “The first time… no one was there. He died alone. No one realized until he was knocking on death’s door. But then, after the Doctor and what… what _I_ did— I remember mum saying that he ran out unexpectedly. And that there was this girl who sat with dad, held his hand.” She laughed, the sound harsh and bitter staining her tongue, “That was _me,_ of course. I have these two memories and I—”

Rose halted, not letting the mess of words out any longer. “I don’t know which one is _real_ anymore,” she finally settled. _I don’t know if_ I’m _real anymore_ , she wanted to say. _I don’t know who I am anymore sometimes_ , she couldn’t say. _I don’t know if I_ want _to know who I am,_ she wished she could say. The words were dammed up in her throat, clogged and stuck.

“You’re real,” Sage said, her thumb rubbing the back of Rose’s hand. Warmth seemed to radiate from her, and Rose didn’t know if she wanted to lean in and bask in it or recoil away, scared of being burned. She settled for awkwardly scooting closer, thighs touching. “And your dad loved you. Your mom loves you. Mickey loves you. The Doctor cares for you…. I care for you.”

The hesitant way that Sage said that last statement, head tilted down and speaking toward their combined hands, the unsurety Sage had as if Rose was going to slap her and reject that extension of friendship. An emotion bubbled up within Rose wanting to burst out of her chest. She let go of Sage’s hand, throwing herself around Sage’s neck, and burst into tears.

Sage, thoroughly confused and slightly overwhelmed, hugged Rose back, arms loose around her neck but comforting all the same. She patted Rose’s back, slightly aborted motions that spoke of inexperience of touch. Rose tightened her hold, the need to care only strengthening. The sobs abated, the catharsis of release letting Rose breathe again.

“I killed the Doctor,” Rose blurted out before she could stop herself, the words spoken into Sage’s shoulder, avoiding confrontation. Sage didn’t speak, letting the nod of her head speak for her so Rose continued. The story that was previously jammed in her mouth flew out, words stumbling over each other as she told the tale. She was heaving by the end of her story, a personal toll that strained against her.

“You didn’t kill the Doctor,” Sage said, pulling Rose out of her embrace to look her in the eye. And it was so simple. So easy that Rose wanted to believe her. Instead she barked out a laugh, one full of disbelief and derision that Rose felt disgusted at herself at once. “I did and I killed my dad too.”

“You didn’t kill the Doctor,” she repeated evenly, not blinking and tone serious. “He sacrificed himself. He pushed everyone behind him, quite literally yelling that and the Reapers killed him.”

“But if I didn’t push him to let me see my dad—”

“Something _he_ shouldn’t have done either,” Sage said sharply that Rose felt chastened immediately. “He’s over nine hundred years old, he knows the rules of time travel. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. It was a calculated risk he _wanted_ to take because he wanted to see you smile.”

“I— what?”

“Don’t paint me as a fool, Rose,” Sage chided her. “I’ve been with you since the beginning. If I couldn’t see the attraction that the two of you held, then I certainly don’t deserve all my degrees.” Rose turned red, “But I’m just a shop girl,” she admitted quietly. Her worst fears of inadequacy reared their ugly head, the truth of it lashing at her and scarring.

“You’re not _just_ anything,” Sage said fiercely, brown eyes seeming red with ferocity. “You may have worked in a shop but that doesn’t define you. No more than the colour of your hair or the language that you speak. You are more than a job. You are Rose Tyler. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But it was still my fault for shoving my dad out of the way,” Rose continued, stubborn pride trying to beat at Sage for being so logical.

“Fault?” Sage hummed, eyes glinting behind her glasses. “I suppose you can frame it like that. You can frame anything as your fault. It was a mistake. A truly consequential one but a mistake nonetheless.”

Rose frowned, “You’re undermining the situation. You’re minimizing it from what happened.”

“And you’re magnifying it,” Sage countered. “Making it more than it is. It occurred because of your decision. But was it your choice to hold baby you?”

“No, but it was my choice to tell my dad the future.”

Sage tilted her head, “You told your dad an idealized future that you wanted. One where both your mum and dad were still here, still with you. Your dad’s the one who figured out that he was supposed to be dead. Your dad was the one who raced out of the church to correct the course of time. Your dad—”

“ _I_ was the reason it happened in the first place!” She yelled, tired and frustrated at Sage’s attempt to sweep her mistake under the rug. “I shouldn’t have asked the Doctor to take me to see my dad. I should’ve listened to the Doctor when he said that we shouldn’t interfere. I shouldn't have gotten angry at the Doctor when he tried to fix the situation. I shouldn’t have been so greedy at wanting to see my dad once in my life before he died. I shouldn’t have done _any_ of that, and I’m _sorry_!” The last word ripped out of her throat, made her chest heave and tears sting.

Sage didn’t say anything, let Rose recollect herself, her thoughts. The anger simmered but didn’t feel boiling anymore, tapering off in her chest and leaving through her fingertips. She was angry, but the feeling was quickly deflating, the emotional roller coaster she had been on for the past few hours finally slowing to a stop.

“It was both your faults.” Sage’s voice broke through, a piercing tone but not one that was so unsettling. “The Doctor’s fault for letting a nineteen year old into a potentially emotionally damaging situation when he is over _nine hundred_ years old and should definitely know better. And for letting it happen not once, not twice, but _three_ times when he knows better. And it’s your fault for asking in the first place when he told you that personal timelines shouldn’t be meddled with _and_ letting your emotions wreak havoc over your control. Your emotions are the best part of you, but they are also your weakness. They make you Rose Tyler, but don’t let them control you.

“The two of you are responsible, and I am glad that you realize that and I am doubly glad that you feel remorse over your actions.”

Rose blinked, realizing that she had been played. “Cruel, Sage.”

Sage conceded with a dip of her head. “Yes, but necessary. The things you were telling me before of what was your fault were for things during the moment, not the root cause of it. You didn’t want to acknowledge it. Your dad didn’t die because of you. The circumstances may have changed to _include_ you, but he didn’t die _because_ of you. He died because he was _meant_ to die. Everything has a time, and it was his.”

“He shouldn’t have died so young though.”

“Neither should’ve my sister.” Rose flushed, but Sage simply went on. “The universe fucking sucks.” Rose turned an even brighter red at the curse. “But every death has a significance, if you excuse me for sounding so philosophical. If your father hadn’t died, then you wouldn’t be the Rose Tyler you are today, the Rose Tyler I know today. Experiences shape people, Rose, and your father’s death shaped you, as terrible and clinical that sounds.”

Rose pursed her lips, eyeing Sage, “Like your sister’s death shaped you.”

Sage didn’t take the bait. “There’s a reason why I don’t drive anywhere.”

The admission was much more heavy than she thought Sage intended, and for a terrifying moment, Rose realized that Sage’s sister also got hit by a car. Rose held herself eerily still, not sure how to proceed with that information. Here she was lamenting about her father’s death by car crash when Sage’s sister was also killed by a car crash.

A morbid part of her wondered just how the girl died. Was it like how her father died? Or was she in the car? Sage said that she didn’t drive for a reason… there was a reason why. If Sage had been sixteen, then she would have applied for a provisional license already, most likely already having one and learning how to drive. A macabre realization made Rose want to throw up. Sage felt responsible for her sister’s death. Sage didn’t drive anymore because of her sister’s death. Sage accidentally killed her sister.

A huff of breath left her. God, that was _much_ worse than her dad getting hit. At least in this new world, her dad’s killer admitted his guilt, a kid just like her, just like Sage was. Sobs wanted to tear out of her throat, but she felt wrung out, tears empty.

Warmth enveloped Rose’s left side, the proximity of Sage making her want to melt into the embrace waiting for her. She resisted, barely. “I’m sorry.” The words came out without Rose’s bidding, and she would take it back, but Rose meant it this time. Sorry for prying. Sorry for finding out what Sage so carefully hidden. Just… sorry.

Sage bit her bottom lip, momentarily looking confused before it cleared, a careful neutrality building back on her face. “Thank you. And— I’m sorry too.”

Rose was confused for a minute before she realized that she had been upset too. That feeling felt like lifetimes ago. The feelings of the night pulling her this way and that, only ending her with exhaustion. She leant into Sage this time, letting the exhaustion pull her down. “‘S fine. We’re a right mess, aren’t we?”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sage huffed a laugh, a careful arm thrown casually over Rose’s shoulder.

Rose blinked, that accent again. “You’re not from London, are you?”

“What gave it away?” Sage smirked. “The accent or the terms?”

“Accent,” Rose admitted. “American?”

Sage nodded. Rose waited for Sage to elaborate, say what state she was from, as Americans were wont to do, individual state pride engrained in all of them. When it became clear that Sage was not going to do that, Rose guessed, “Texas?”

Sage barked out a laugh, “No, but close. If I do say my state, what’re the chances that you’ll know where that is?”

Rose tilted her head. It was a fair question. Her geography class didn’t cover United States geography, and she was sure that Sage knew that. The most she knew of the USA were from movies and books, the famous states, California, New York, Texas. Those states. She forgot sometimes that there was more than those three. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Fair enough,” Sage nodded her head. “I don’t know much about England’s geography either, even though I’ve lived here for over ten years. Some of your names are a bit ridiculous, but I don’t have room to speak.”

“So where _are_ you from?” Rose asked before Sage could redirect the conversation much more.

The smile on Sage’s face said that Rose hadn’t been successful, but she answered all the same, a southern drawl in her tone. “Oklahoma.”

Something on Rose’s face must have said all that needed to be said because Sage laughed, “I told you that you wouldn’t know it.”

“Sounds fake, but okay. Oklahoma,” Rose let the word roll over her tongue, the unfamiliar syllables and letters not fitting into her mouth. It certainly didn’t sound as melodic and drawling as Sage said it. “That’s near Texas?”

“Right above it,” Sage pointed up as if they were in the state, British accent loosening just barely to a long and drawn out lilt of an accent. “Lived there eighteen years, southern born and bred.”

“And you moved here,” Rose said. “What? Couldn’t take the heat? You’d rather live in dreary ol' London town?”

Sage’s smile was shark-like as she hid it behind a sip of water. “Something like that.”

Sensing dangerous territory, Rose attempted to change the conversation again. “I was born in Swindon.”

A blink and the sharp aura surrounding Sage dissipated as she took in the words. She arched a brow and let out another harsh laugh, “Sure it wasn’t Sweden?” Her lilting accent making Rose blush.

Rose feigned a mock offense, “I know my geography. Just because I don’t know any place in America doesn’t mean I can’t point out my hometown.”

“Fair enough,” Sage laughed. She yawned, letting go of Rose and stretching her arms up. There was a satisfying crack as Sage worked out the kinks in her neck.

Rose glanced back at the time. Four in the morning. Her eyes widened at how late (or early she supposed) it was. “Shit, it’s late. I’m sorry.”

Blinking slowly, Sage looked at the clock. “Eh, I probably would’ve gone to sleep around now anyway. I’m an insomniac,” she explained when she caught the alarmed look on Rose’s face. “You should probably go to sleep now if you want any sort of rest tonight.”

Taking the out for what it was, “Yeah, I should probably go back to the flat.” Rose was glad when Sage nodded in answer, not offering her to sleep over. As polite as it would’ve been, Rose cannot handle being in Sage’s house any longer and it seemed that the woman noticed. She was grateful for Sage, grateful for her giving Rose clarity and peace of mind. But the emotional exhaustion was weighing her down, and she would only feel guilt if Sage offered. Regardless of how ludicrous it sounded.

“Come over again anytime, Rosie,” Sage offered instead with a friendly smile, belied by the tiredness in her eyes and the faint dark bags under her eyes. “I’m serious. My flat’s always open for friends. Yes, you’re my friend,” she said pointedly, and Rose hid the smile that was threatening to break across her face. Sage pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling something then handing it over to Rose. “If I can be friends with the Doctor, I can be friends with anybody. If all you need is a place to get Jackie off your back or to bitch about the Doctor, come over. I’ll be here. No matter the hour.”

Rose ducked her head, the grin that was threatening to break back was a force to be reckoned with, standing up. She offered a hand to Sage, who took it, and a friendly, genuine smile back. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Sage grinned, shaking Rose's hand before pulling her into a hug goodbye, warm and embracing, familial and sisterly. Rose hugged back just as tightly, feeling overwhelmingly happy to have a friend.

* * *

Sage fell back on her door after showing Rose out, feeling the tiredness of the night falling back on her shoulders. She had put on a friendly persona for Rose, the bizarreness of her showing up on Sage’s doorstep quickly shaking off in light of the distress showing on Rose.

She slid down her door, letting her head thud back on the wood. “Ugh, being friendly is so _tiring_. And I invited her _back_. _Ughhhhhh_. I’m so _tired_.”

Wearily, she heaved herself up, using the wall as leverage, slightly loosening her ponytail but not pulling it off. She dragged herself toward her room, feet heavy and shoulders sagging. Sage flung herself on her bed, slippers sliding off her feet and glasses awkwardly digging into her face as she tried to suffocate herself with her bedding. Without a care, she took off her glasses, lazily flinging them onto her nightstand. They clattered, hitting their mark.

Normally she would care about the state of her glasses, making sure they wouldn’t smudge or land on the lenses, but _god_ was she tired. She hadn’t slept a wink for the past twenty four hours, she felt. With a sigh, she settled back into her bed, letting the comfort of her comforter and blankets and pillows take her into a blissful and awaited unconscious state.

Sage startled awake after what felt like a scant three seconds from the bang that reverbated in her skull. Stomping from outside her bedroom door alerted her to the fact that it wasn’t Mickey. She had threatened that out of him ages ago. It wasn’t Jackie either, the woman would’ve gone straight to Sage’s bedroom to wake her up instead. The only remainder could only be the Doctor.

Squinting at the clock, she groaned, letting her face fall back into her pillows. She burrowed her face into the knitted comfort, muttering darkly. “Ugh, _ughhhhhh_. Three hours. I got _three_ hours of sleep. _Ughhhhhhhhhhh_. I should sue or something. Oh my god, I hate him so much.” She sighed, “Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.”

The stomping remained, unfortunately.

Sage groaned, long and excruciating. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to get up and entertain an alien who sounded pissed. She didn't want to play at therapist like she did the night before. At least Rose had the decency to ask before barging in and peeling apart her carefully structured life.

The Doctor had the habit of doing first and asking later. Something she usually encouraged but not at the risk of her sleep. "Holy _hell_ , I am not awake for this." She yawned, reaching out and groping around for her glasses. With a groan, she pushed herself up, shoving her glasses on and levering herself off the bed.

"Goddammit, fuck the Doctor. Why does he have such _impeccable_ timing? Why does he have to infringe on my times of sleep? Fucking asshole. This is homophobic." She ignored the Doctor, who was pacing in her living room, also viciously muttering. Words of vitriol spew from both, neither trying to understand it.

Sage haphazardly did her morning hygiene routine, stumbling to a finish and made for her kitchen, starting to brew a large pot of coffee. "I fucking hate coffee. I bought this for Mickey and now I'm the one using it because I am so fucking tired. Oh my god, I'm just repeating myself. Shut the fuck _up_ , brain."

She poured an insane amount of sugar into the mug, stirring it in as she grumbled all the way to the living room, another mug of coffee, black, in hand. She leant against a column of her wall, taking sips and letting the caffeine do its job.

The Doctor went on for a few more minutes. Nearing the ten minute mark, he abruptly turned, blue eyes piercing hers. Sage arched a brow, and he scowled, "How long have you been standing there?"

"How long have you been pacing?" She coolly shot back. She held out the mug towards him. "Coffee or tea?"

"Tea, please."

"Wrong, it's coffee." She delighted in the face that the Doctor made before he begrudgingly took the mug, taking a sip and grimacing at the taste.

She sat down, the Doctor opting to stand. "What the fuck happened now?"

The Doctor flushed, either at the wording or the blunt question. "What makes you think—"

"Doctor, if you're trying to bullshit your way in front of me, get the fuck out right now. I prefer lies of omission over outright deceit."

"Caffeine makes you rude, I see." He took a sip to avoid making another comment, still grimacing.

"No, it's the fact that I got three hours of sleep last night when I could've gotten more but was interrupted by a temper tantrum." She slammed her empty mug down on her coffee table, tired of the Doctor's need for roundabout conversations. " _So_ I ask again: what the _fuck_ happened now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Rose goes through dissociation during the chapter and forgets who she is for a moment, losing time, and reacting slightly violently (scratching and leaving a bit of blood). Those who would like to skip it, skip to the second === and it should be clear to go from there. Sage also slightly manipulates Rose into speaking her mind, but nothing so devious.
> 
> There is also talk about death and killing, but nothing further beyond that. It is speculated that Sage had gotten into a car crash and her youngest sister was killed. 
> 
> Viewer discretion is advised.
> 
> Bruh, I don't even know where this came from. I was in a mood writing all day and here I am with another behemoth. Please for the love of god review, I'm getting so discouraged it feels like I'm back on FFN. Should I change the rating? This is getting much more serious than the FFN one. Which, wow, did not think would happen. Do people even read author notes? Please for the love of god review.


	10. Bittermelon Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage Tran was much too interesting to let go. The Doctor just _had_ to invite her on board.

The Doctor was a proud man. He always was. One of his tragic flaws, unfortunately. One of his greatest assets as well. Bit of a conundrum whenever he bit off more than he could chew but he always managed to get out by the skin of his teeth. His confidence, most of the time however, was not false. 

He knew things others couldn't even _begin_ to fathom. He has visited places that others can only _dream_ of visiting. His intelligence was far from the ordinary, a genius with thought processes that others could barely make the leap toward. 

So he took command of the room, taking it and shaping it to his advantage. Molding it so that it fit his scenario. He went through situation after situation, preparing, just in case, an escape. He rarely entertained those thoughts generally, optimism winning more often than not. 

The Doctor was a proud man. But with that pride came arrogance and a dash of curiosity that oftentimes didn't end well for either the Doctor or his companions. His curiosity got the better of him, so much that it was a feat itself that he managed to live to 900. (Or maybe a bit over, he was never quite sure anymore. Younger? Did he even keep count anymore?)

His curiosity leant itself to more or less enabling, poking the bear, so to speak, just to see what would happen. If he could solve the puzzle. It always was a bit of a toss up of what would happen. But he was more or less always on adventures and not trips of terror. At least 60%. Maybe 20% on a bad day. 

It usually turned out well though. Puzzles always served him well. The Doctor was good at puzzling out puzzles (ha). Humans were one of the easiest puzzles to figure out. As well as one of the hardest. Bit of a paradox, those apes. They could often be diminished to their baser traits. Curiosity. Love. Family. Etc. But then humans were also their own worst enemies. Greed. Lust. Power. Etc. 

And that was what made them so complex.

The Doctor never quite knew what he’d encounter when he brought a human on board. That statement has never rung so true with Sage Tran. 

There was something about the petite woman that made the Doctor want to poke her, break her apart and see just what exactly made her tick. The woman was an enigma, a conundrum, and sometimes so easy to read that it left the Doctor stupefied at times when she did something so out of character.

Like now for instance.

The Doctor had been quite incensed by Rose and her foolhardy ways, but he had forgiven her ages ago, attributing it all to youth and folly. He couldn’t quite blame the young woman for something he knew was half his fault as well. He knew the rules of time like the back of his hand. He may be the last Time Lord, but that didn’t give him leeway to rule breaking. It could, after all, and quite disastrously at that, destroy the universe. 

So he invited himself over to Sage’s flat. Because ruminating on the entire thing seemed like a waste of time when he already knew the root of the issue. ( ~~He was the problem. He was always the problem. By Rassilon, why was he such a fuck up?)~~

Really, there wasn’t a _real_ reason why he decided to seek out the human woman. Company, probably. He wasn’t quite sure he knew what to make of her. He was attracted to her, at a base level. She was an attractive enough woman. Small and petite. Delicate features with a rounded face. Beauty marks that dotted her skin but didn’t take up her face. Long hair that reached to the end of her back, always tied up prim and proper. Broad shoulders, a stubby nose. Large dark brown eyes that always seemed to be calculating something that the Doctor couldn’t figure out just yet, like she knew something the Doctor didn’t. A fierce, sharp tongue that left more cuts than it soothed. 

Conventionally and unconventionally attractive. Average yet not. The Doctor would be lying if he pretended that he wasn’t _somewhat_ attracted to her. 

But that attraction was currently being beaten back with curiosity and amusement. The intense aura of displeasure and anger radiating from Sage only stoked the flames of interest. The woman sat scowling up at him, a power in her sitting form as she demanded answers.

The Doctor had come here in the hopes of some good company and to make good on Sage’s promise to adventure with him. He had only seen her in action twice before, both times taking command when he had seemingly failed. And, by _Rassilon_ , did he want to see Sage flourish even more, see where her own endless curiosity would take her (and him). 

To say that he was unprepared by the ferocity and bitterness coming off her in waves would be a lie. He was absolutely delighted at the fact, however, that she could still tease and prank him even after only knowing him for a short while (No, he did not count the year where he fucked up the dates). That level of comfort and amiability was something that his companions took ages to get to, still seeing him as something godlike and powerful (which he was, but Sage seemed to humble him in ways he didn’t care to admit). 

It exhilarated him that someone was treating him as an equal in some capacity. Angry at him for no reason, not just to stick up for what they believe in, but because they _could_. 

There was a reason he always liked humans. Their emotions always got the better of them and his companions were some of the best. The more emotional, the more passionate, the more impressed the Doctor was. He chose Rose for a reason, and Sage was looking more and more like another companion he wanted. 

“You said that if I could come during the summer, you would join me on the TARDIS,” he said mildly, taking a sip at the coffee. The taste made him balk slightly, too bitter and too strong for these tastebuds to handle.

Sage deflated, the hot anger seeming to slowly dissipate out of her. She groaned, leaning forward slightly and rubbing her forehead, waving off a potential migraine. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, words wanting to form but unable to leave. The Doctor tilted his head in concern, she gave up rather quickly. Whatever happened must have been rather serious. “I— I did say that, didn’t I?” She swiped a hand down her face, exhaustion screaming from her posture. “Ugh, sorry, Doctor. I only got three hours of sleep last night.”

The frown on the Doctor’s face was not wholly fake. He gave a pointed look at the clock, the early hour apparent. Sage only groaned again, “Don’t give me that look. This time it wasn’t even my fault. I was helping a friend and time got away from us.”

 _This time_. The words were telling, giving away how little Sage seemed to be sleeping. The concern only deepened, and the Doctor was sorely tempted to just stay in the TARDIS for a while so that Sage could get some sleep. “Are they okay?”

“Hmm?” Sleep made Sage rude and unaware, it seemed. “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Fine. Nothing a good ol’ talking to couldn’t help.” The southern accent deepened in her tired state, and the Doctor was wholly amused at seeing Sage so uninhibited. It made her softer and much more friendly.

“Who was it?” He asked curiously. He set down the mug, taking a seat on the armchair.

“A new friend I met,” she waved it off, not getting into specifics. The Doctor pursed his lips, noting that Sage was being deliberately vague. He sighed, letting it go. This wasn’t the time to push, not when Sage was so sleep deprived. (Although, it was the best time, a more manipulative, cunning part of him argued. Humans were always more open and honest when tired. Tongues looser. Stop right there, not the time.)

“So…?” He let the word trail off, giving her an expectant look. He expected Sage to jump up at the chance and go. He expected her to have a go bag, ready and willing. He had seen a little of what Sage went through in her day to day life. Very domestic and quite boring if the Doctor was being honest. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, the ability to travel back and forth in time, to different planets and explore the different cultures and history. His ship would be open to her perusal, something that he knew any historian would be foaming at the mouth to get.

He did _not_ expect Sage to hesitate. To look reluctant and apologetic, brown eyes flashing with sorrow and thinly veiled longing. Sage opened her mouth to say something, and the Doctor felt his hearts lurch with a feeling he couldn’t explain. 

Whatever Sage was going to say halted when her cell rang, the both of them jumping. The tiredness in Sage’s eyes became more pronounced, “Excuse me,” she said irritably, taking the call in the kitchen. 

The Doctor clenched his jaw, wondering what Sage was going to say. He had to physically stop himself from wandering to the edge of the kitchen, digging in his heels so that he didn’t eavesdrop. The place wasn’t soundproof, but the lengths that Sage was making so that he didn’t overhear was apparent enough that he would respect that. 

Instead he took the opportunity to snoop around, looking toward one of the many bookshelves. The thing was practically stuffed with them, books shoved in but still lovingly handled. There wasn’t any space left for more books, the extras laying on their back and stacked atop each other to make room. 

He pulled down one of the books, grin widening at the well loved care in them, worn but not ripped or stained. He trailed his finger over the spine, cracking it open. Something slipped out when he tried to read it, and the Doctor frowned, bending down to pick it up. 

A polaroid, yellowed slightly at the edges, and the Doctor wondered how old it was exactly if it was starting to show its age. He turned it over, eyes catching a sight of a younger Sage. She was surrounded by two boys, a toothy grin spreading across her cheeks with her arms swung around both boys’ shoulders. One boy looks nothing like Sage or the other, white, wild, dark wet curls and bright blue eyes. He was grinning proudly, holding up a freshly caught catfish.

The other boy, clearly younger than both Sage and the first boy, looked more reticent, tucking himself into Sage’s embrace, half hiding his face in her arms. He looked more like Sage, and he assumed that this had to be either a sibling or a close relative. The Doctor was stricken with the realization that he had no foundation for Sage's family life.

How many siblings did she have? Did she still keep in contact with them? Did she still talk to her parents? Was there a reason this picture was hidden? Was there a reason why there were no personal photos around her flat?

He inspected the photo a bit more, the hidden history piquing his interest. He would put Sage’s age as somewhere in her pre-teens, twelve at the oldest. She had a chipped tooth, no doubt fixed when she grew up. No glasses in sight. Perhaps later onset astigmatism. The three were caked with mud and water, dirt streaked across their cheeks. Sage’s hair was wet, the tiny bobcut flattening her hair to her face. She must’ve fallen in getting their catch. 

A smile started to form at his lips, the thought of Sage as a child, most definitely young and precocious. He wondered what she was like, knowing that she must be just as brilliant. 

“Sorry, Jackie wanted—” The Doctor fumbled with the picture when he heard her voice, looking for all the world like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He tried to turn nonchalantly, tucking the photo into his pocket, a hand holding it securely. 

Sage arched an eyebrow, not fooled. “Doctor?”

“What was it that Jackie wanted?” he asked lightly. He smiled at her roguishly, hoping that the expression would distract her from noticing that he had snooped. Sage gave him an unimpressed look, making her way toward him. 

He stood still, not wanting to move to seem like he _was_ hiding something. Sage plucked the book out of his hand, and the Doctor almost jolted, forgetting about it all together in the face of Sage’s history. 

She turned away from the Doctor, facing the bookshelf as the Doctor could only watch on, curious about Sage’s next move. She turned it over in her hands, almost reverent in her handling. Her hands caressed the book as if it were a lover, opening the book to a page. Without a word, she held out a hand to the Doctor, expectant and waiting. 

He hesitated, not wanting to give up the new found evidence but also not wanting to admit his guilt. Sage tilted her head up, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes with a reproachful look. With a clench of his jaw, the Doctor pulled out the photo, setting it into her open palm.

To the Doctor’s surprise, Sage didn’t automatically put the photo and book back. She paused, looking intently at the photo. He kept quiet, feeling the emotions roiling off Sage as if they were his own. She stared at it, eyes downcast, and if the Doctor looked closely her fingers were trembling.

He wanted to do something, feeling awkward standing there, staring. And it was sorta his fault for putting her on the spot with a memory that she didn’t want to confront. 

“I was eleven when we took that photo,” she said abruptly but as if she were speaking about the weather. The tone belied the fact that her shoulders were tense and how much it seemed like she wanted to bolt. “We spent ages out on the swamp, trying and failing to catch even one fish. We were about to give up too when my baby brother felt something pull at his line. 

“He panicked, shoving the fishing pole into my hands. I tried to pull at it, to reel it in. It was stronger than I thought, so the three of us were pulling and pulling and pullin’ and then the boat lurched and I fell in, pullin’ in the other two. Luckily, it was shallow. The good news is that we got the fish. It made for great courtbouillon.” The last word rolled off her tongue, and the tidbit of history made the Doctor’s curiosity pique even more.

“Swamp? Florida?” the Doctor asked lightly, trying not to seem like he was prying.

“Louisiana,” she corrected. She shuddered almost imperceptibly, tucking the photo back into its spot with care.

He filed that away, the knowledge set into a special place that was slowly becoming filled with Sage. “Who’s the other boy?” He wanted to wince. Rude. And perhaps a bit too direct. Sage didn’t react like it bothered her, placing the book back onto the shelf.

“My summer friend,” and the Doctor furrowed his brows at that deliberately vague answer. “We only met in the summer,” she explained, feeling the intensity of the Doctor’s curiosity, “and weren’t in the same grade. I was three grades ahead of him, but he’s the same age as my baby brother, and none of the other kids were the same age as me, so we were lumped together during the summer. He moved away when I was… I wanna say fourteen.”

The Doctor greedily soaked up the information, filing it away. “Louisiana. Is that where the accent comes from?”

“It comes from growing up in the south, Doctor,” she said dryly, and he grinned at her, pleased at the roundabout answer. This was starting to be _fun_. His companions… they never gave up answers right away, instead somehow finding situations that he and they got themselves into to bring it up (and he never told anything about himself anyway, unless otherwise necessary). But they always gave them up whenever possible, liking to talk. This was one of the few times where the Doctor felt like working to find out more information, wanting to work for it. He knew that Sage wasn’t going to make it easy, and he _relished_ that fact.

“Any more surprises?”

Sage turned to give him a brilliant smile, mouth moving to say _something_. He startled, mind trying to figure out the language. He usually didn’t have the TARDIS’s translation matrix on, knowing so many languages already, and usually he could get by since there was always a common language that had evolved from another one where it was still easy to decipher, like the Latin based languages on Earth.

It _sounded_ like French, but it lacked all the sophistication and melody, sounding a bit more broken and spread out. And what kind of grammar and verbs were those? English mixed in with it, and he caught snippets of his name, Rose’s or maybe she was talking about roses, the flower, something about the summer. His confusion must have shown on his face because Sage’s smile brightened and she said something else. 

“What? What did you say?” The challenge was much too tempting for the Doctor to cheat and use the TARDIS, and it seemed Sage knew that, taking advantage and saying something quick and voice sounding harsher. “ _What_ language is that?” he demanded.

Sage’s eyes were bright with mischief, “French.”

“No. _No._ I _know_ French. I know 17th century French. I know _31st_ century French, and _that_ was not French.”

Sage lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, “I dunno what to tell you, but it is French. Not my fault that you can’t understand it.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes…. Louisiana. Something sparked in his mind and the Doctor smirked at Sage in triumph. “Creole French?”

She only gave him a mysterious smile, patting him on the chest. “Gotta leave some things in my life a mystery, huh, Doc?”

“I think your whole life is a mystery,” he muttered under his breath, and Sage only gave him another brilliant smile. 

“Pot, kettle,” she tapped the side of her nose, amused. 

The Doctor huffed, a smile in the beginnings of burgeoning. He turned back to the bookshelf, eyes raking over the contents of the shelf. Sage didn’t say anything, leaning her back against the shelf and watching the Doctor peruse her shelf instead. 

His eyes lingered over the amount of fiction books, casting a look at Sage, who only gave him a cool smile, waving her permission. He trailed his fingertips over the spines, marveling at the titles. “Neil Gaiman?”

“One of my favourites.”

“What’s your favourite of his?”

She pursed her lips, seemingly to seriously consider his question. She started to tug on the end of her ponytail, hair pulling out of the tie. She bit her bottom lip, forehead creasing as she mulled over her options. The question flew out of his mind as he watched Sage instead, the want of an answer seemingly useless. Her eyes were sparkling with intensity, the answer clearly important to her. She worried her bottom lip, biting it red with her teeth. Her hand crept up to tangle with the chain of her necklace, twirling it around and then loosening. Really, the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to give a damn about it, watching Sage seemed much more important. 

“You don’t have to decide now,” he offered, breaking her concentration. “Come back to it.”

“‘All your questions can be answered, if that is what you want. But once you learn your answers, you can never unlearn them.’”

He tilted his head, considering the quote. “ _Good Omens?_ ”

She shook her head, smiling, “ _American Gods._ ”

“Ah, you know in 2017 there’ll be a television portrayal of both of them."

Sage's eyes brightened with curiosity, "Really?"

The Doctor hummed, "Did a good job on the adaptation too. But I dunno, Crowley seemed to be a bit of an underwhelming actor though."

"Who was the actor?"

"Someone named David McDonald."

"Huh. Never heard of him." Sage was quiet, expression contemplative. The Doctor waited for her to say something, trying not to make it seem obvious that he was staring. He wanted to fidget, tap his foot, play with something in his hands. The silence was making him restless, a small feeling of inadequacy bubbling up within him. It was a bit of a revolting feeling that made his skin crawl.

He didn’t want to press the issue of her going with him, suspecting that if he did it would turn her off on the idea even more. The reluctance that Sage was showing him made his hearts stutter a bit in confusion. The idea that Sage _didn’t_ want to go with souring the inside of his mouth. 

There wasn’t a reason he could think of why Sage didn’t want to go with him. He had everything, a virtually limitless closet and funds (acquired illegally, but well, semantics), the ability to travel in time and space. It was heaven compared to the mundanities of human life.

The feeling squeezed him in a vice as the silence stretched on. He couldn’t move, staying still and watching Sage in silence. Her brown eyes were slightly glazed over, the intelligence almost hidden behind the frames of her glasses. Her lips were moving in silence, mouthing words. The Doctor felt his lips twitch in a facsimile of a smile when he realized Sage was arguing with herself. Her hands twitched like they wanted to move to prove her point, proprietary overriding passion.

“Yeah, okay,” Sage said, startling the both of them out of their thoughts.

The Doctor’s hearts tripped over themselves to soar up in happiness. “Yeah, okay, you’re going with me? Or yeah okay you also think David MacDonald is an underwhelming actor?”

“Yeah, okay I’m coming with you, yeah,” Sage shook her head, as if dispelling other thoughts from clouding her mind. “And if I want, I can come back here anyway right?”

He nodded decisively, letting him tip his chin downward lest he nod wildly in agreement. He thought that Sage wasn’t going to join him, and who knew where he was going to go with that. He was sure that he could move on from her, should she have decided not to join him, but that feeling of curiosity, that what if? would always niggle at him at the back of his skull. 

“Absolutely,” he said in response. She smiled at him and he felt himself grinning back, wide and unabashed. It warmed him from top to bottom, seeing her smile at him like that. Like he was the reason for her happiness.

The Doctor paused. Where were these thoughts coming from? He cast them aside, locking them up in the back of his mind without another thought. He grinned widely at her, giving her an expectant look.

Sage stared back unblinkingly, not comprehending until— “O-oh,” she pointed down at the floor to indicate that, “you mean now now. Uh— yeah, okay, just let me—” She broke off, muttering to herself as she swept through her apartment.

“You don’t need to bring clothes,” he said, amused. “The wardrobe has more than enough to accommodate you.”

“But I need my glasses,” she said, giving him an incredulous look, “and my back up glasses and my contacts and contact solution and—” Her eyes widened and jaw snapped shut before she finished that statement and the Doctor wondered what she was going to say before minutely shaking his head. He didn’t think he wanted to know. “I— I need a lot of things, Doctor, not just clothes.”

The Doctor only looked at her, baffled. How could such a small creature need so many things? Didn’t humans just need clothes and food and water? Maybe shelter if they were desperate. But the Doctor knew that anything that they might possibly need he had in the TARDIS. It was a multi-dimensional space ship after all. Any necessities would be supplied in the ship.

Bemused with a little befuddled smile, the Doctor let her go putzing around her apartment. She shoved things into a tiny case, obviously not really caring about the clothes’ conditions. She tucked other things into little pockets with more care than her clothes. 

The Doctor watched in fascination as Sage flitted around, hands hovering as she went over whatever mental list she was going over in her head. He leant against the bookshelf, Sage immensely more amusing than the stories next to him.

She counted on her finger tips, looking this way and that as her gaze roamed over her tiny little flat. Her eyes lingered on the new green overthrow, lips pursing as she stared at it intently. The Doctor had no idea what sort of sentimental value the thing had, but Sage looked clearly torn over it. 

Her eyes darted between him and the thing multiple times, gaze almost completely hidden behind her glasses. The Doctor only noticed because of how he was watching Sage the whole time, never looking away from her. Sage gave an almost inaudible sigh, shoulders tensing before relaxing as she gathered up the overthrow and folded it neatly, stowing it in a case. 

“That it?” The Doctor had to pipe up when she kept nervously flitting her gaze ‘round her flat, biting her bottom lip. “Got all you need?”

Sage jolted, obviously having forgotten that he was there and the main reason why she needed to pack in the first place. Dazedly, she nodded, ticking things off her fingers before nodding once more decidedly. 

He pushed himself off the bookshelf, striding over to Sage and scooping up her suitcase. Sage furrowed her brows, “Wait, why are you— I can—”

The Doctor’s lips twitched up in a smile. It was rather endearing to watch the petite woman try and be polite. The two of them have passed the realm for niceties. The Doctor strode out of Sage’s apartment with ease, forcing the woman to have to follow him if she wanted to make sure that her belongings were safe. If the Doctor were a ruder or at least crueler man, he would be whistling and swinging the case, jostling the things inside. 

But the anxiety was _rolling_ off Sage in waves as she fretted and hovered behind him, steps quickening to match his pace but just slightly unable to get there. The Doctor smirked a bit, hurrying his face _just_ a bit to see the panic on her face.

Sage’s face twitched, anger replacing anxiety. She slowed down her pace, forcing herself into a leisurely walk, compelling the Doctor to choose between upping his speed and losing her or slowing his own stride so as not to lose her.

His stride cut in half, until he was completely in pace with Sage, walking side by side. Sage flashed him a tiny triumphant smirk that made the Doctor smirk back at her. Sage’s eyes widened, lowering to look forward instead. 

The Doctor swerved abruptly into the back alley way that he parked the TARDIS, hiding a laugh when Sage almost hit a pole as she tried to keep up with him. The Doctor set down her bags, patting himself for the key to the TARDIS.

Sage strode forward, hand out to the lock, “Hey, girl,” she said, voice low in a whisper. The air seemed to be charged with some sort of tension as the Doctor lowered his hands, abandoning his quest for his key.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Sage confided, a low hum surrounding them. The Doctor watched with just a bit of confusion as Sage struck up a one sided conversation. It hadn’t been the first time Sage had done this, and the Doctor thought it was a quirk of when she had first met the TARDIS when he had been unconscious, trying to fill in the silence.

It seemed like Sage had completely forgotten the Doctor’s presence entirely. The two of them were in some sort of secret conversation, the words coming out as a low buzzing hum. He tilted his head, trying to make out some words. Nothing seemed comprehensible and he stared.

That… that couldn’t be good. That _shouldn’t_ be possible. No one had such a strong relationship with the TARDIS. Not him. Not Brax. Not even Susan was so close as to communicate with the ship that _he_ couldn’t understand it. He was the pilot. They literally had a bond with each other, an amalgam of earthen wedding vows. ‘Til death do they part or whatever. 

This was bad news.

Or… a new discovery. Something must’ve happened when he was unconscious between the TARDIS and Sage. Something that neither Sage or the ship wanted him privy to. 

“Alright, alright,” Sage laughed, caressing the lock. Something clicked, and she pulled the doors open.

The Doctor’s mind _boggled_.

“Wait, wait, wait—” The Doctor slipped in between Sage and the doors, effectively blocking her from entering the ship. Sage bumped into the Doctor’s chest, taking a step back and looking up with wide eyes.

“Er—” Sage pushed up on her tiptoes, peeking over his shoulder at the console. The orange glow was illuminating her face, making her look pale in the light. “You good, Doctor? Cuz if you want me to join the crew, then you gotta move.”

“How did you open the doors? You don’t have a key. Are you really a human or someone from the Time Agency or someone from my personal future?” His eyes narrowed as Sage gave him an incredulous look. 

“What the fuck?” Sage took another step back. The orange lights behind him dimmed minutely, a slight huff and then back to full power. If the Doctor didn’t know any better then he would say that the old thing was laughing at him, judging him at the least. “ _You’re_ the one who invited me onto your ship. _You’re_ the one who introduced me to all of this. I didn’t know jack shit about aliens until I met you.”

The Doctor glared at her for a minute, eyeing her up and down. He clenched his jaw. She was too good to be true and it was so odd for her to be so buddy buddy with a semi-sentient time ship when chronologically she met the ship four times previous. She was too good to be true…

...but it was better to keep an eye on her if she did turn out to be something evil or horrible or a danger to himself and his loved ones. Better to keep friends close and enemies closer as good ol’ Sunny boy would say.

He forced himself to relax, giving Sage a wide, very forced smile. His shoulders lowered slightly and his stance was open, calm, non-threatening. Sage looked very unimpressed. He raised his hands, backing down from his accusations. 

“Alright, alright, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong.”

Sage stepped back again, crossing her arms. Her face was set into a severe frown, jaw set. The Doctor only looked back at her cooly, a disarming smile on his face. The distrust was getting on his nerves a bit, the loss of control poignant. 

The air was positively charged with outrage and subtle embarrassment. Sage was vibrating, tongue visibly held in check as her face twisted. She must’ve taken it as an insult, something patronizing and condescending instead of the reassurance and admission that it was. 

The human was a different breed of ape, that was for sure. It grated on him, her unpredictability. Usually, it was a welcome change, a zest for the unknown, and a taste of a new mystery. But here he was, inviting a human on board his spectacular spaceship and she had the nerve to be angry at him for it.

Just because he was a little suspicious. Was that so wrong?

It was intriguing. Sage certainly had the guts to so openly show her disgust and annoyance at him even though he had invited her on board. The Doctor opened his mouth and promptly let out a grunt when the TARDIS doors swung to knock him over. 

Right into Sage.

The two of them stumbled, and Sage clung onto his upper arms as he wound his arms around her waist. Her height was much more pronounced this way. Her head burrowed into his chest, and her small frame was almost engulfed in his arms. If the Doctor wasn’t so disorientated and just a bit ticked off, he would’ve enjoyed the impromptu hug. She looked up as he looked down, both of them staring at each other with wide eyes.

He let go, or she did. It was a rather abrupt manner where they practically threw each other away. The movement jarring and jerking. The Doctor brushed himself off, clearing his throat. Sage stepped back once more, crossing her arms and glaring at the blue police box with an intensity that could kill. 

The Doctor threw Sage a charming, boyish grin, and she rolled her eyes. She scooped up her bags, pushed past the Doctor and marched inside the spaceship. The orange lights dimmed and brightened up, and he knew that the TARDIS was having fun at his expense. The Doctor scowled, stomping after Sage.

Well, that could’ve gone worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't post in November for No Nuance November (I think that's what it's called) except for the story on FFN because I needed to get that chapter and arc done for a while now. I think I'm going to be focusing more on this story and developing more about the characters rather than the one on FFN because I really need to get this story up to date. 
> 
> Short chapter this time, and I said I was going to write an episode chapter but oop I dunno if that's gonna happen with the next one. Oh well.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I will see _y'all_ in the next chapter!


	11. The Empty Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sage didn't sign up for zombies. And she can't even get a refund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally back to an episode chapter, guys. After who knows how many original chapters, holy shit.

Sage fell face-first on her bed with a groan. 

Her room hadn’t changed from when she first visited the ship, still freakishly clean and hotel-like. Clean blue sheets, soft green paint, an adjacent bathroom, a desk, a drawer. Nothing that screamed Sage. Not yet at least.

“That was so fucking embarrassing. God.” Sage rolled over, grabbing her pillow and pulling it over her face, muffling her scream. The TARDIS hummed, and Sage rolled over onto her back, pillow still over her face.

“Okay, laugh it up, not like the Doctor just straight up accused me of being a liar or anything,” Sage said, words muffled by the pillow. The TARDIS buzzed mock-sympathetically, and Sage stifled her growl.

She sat up, throwing the pillow behind her. “It’s not the accusation that hurt me,” she admitted. “It’s that fucking tone he used with me after backing down. Like he was patronizing me or indulging me or whatever. Like my anger and annoyance wasn’t deserved but he let me be angry anyway.”

Sage tilted her head, “Okay, the accusation hurt a little bit. God, I don’t even know why I’m so angry. He’s right not to trust me! How could he after the war? Like I wouldn’t trust anybody! And he goes and brings two humans on his ship because they _interest_ him, and I can’t even hate him because. He’s. So. Kind!”

She slipped off her bed, starting to pace. Anxiety coursed through her, making her want to pace the energy out. She was too high strung, as her feet worried a path into the floor. Nothing seemed to make sense right now.

The Doctor was kind one day, then suspicious and accusing the next. It made her want to punch him straight in the nose. Sage couldn’t exactly fault him, but God did it feel bad to be on the other end of the stick. 

Was it a moral failing on her part? Doing whatever she did to make him so suspicious of her? Did she do something that made that infallible trust he had in the first few adventures shake? Was she so terrible?

“Ugh,” Sage shook her hands, energy ripping her apart at the seams. Everything was too much and she was brimming with unbridled energy, needing a proper release. “Do you have, like, a training room? Somewhere where I can punch something?”

The TARDIS buzzes violently, excited and loud. Her door swung open, and Sage tilted her head up to look at the ship. “Thank you,” she murmured, putting on her contacts and changing into a tank top and leggings, and quickly following the blinking lights to a weight room.

Sage smiled for the first time since stepping onto the spaceship. A few water bottles and some towels were laid out onto a bench, and Sage was touched by the thoughtfulness of the ship. She reached out, lightly tapping the frame of the door in fondness.

The lights dimmed a tiny bit, and Sage grinned. She started with stretches, getting herself ready, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet to the tip of her toes, swinging her arms back and forth. She started out to do a light jog around the room, pushing out all other thoughts in her head.

Anger wouldn’t help her right now. Annoyance either. She shouldn’t succumb to her emotions just because the Doctor was being a prick to her. Rose didn’t get put under this much scrutiny, she grumbled silently to herself. She paused with that thought before picking up the pace. 

Emptiness overwhelmed her thoughts, the feeling of blankness in her mind wrapping around her like a stifling hug. She didn’t need to think when she ran, when she exercised (loathe as she was to do it, there was something to the dreaded routine) that all she needed to focus on was breathing, lifting her 

Sweat poured down her neck, and she started to slow down, the ache starting to get to her. Sage jogged to the bench, picking up a towel and wiping the sweat away. She felt horribly sticky, the remnants of it still there. “How long was that?” Sage looked up at the ceiling for an answer, taking a swig of cold water. Still somehow cold when the TARDIS flashed a box in answer.

“An hour?” Sage tried, getting a hum in the affirmative. She nodded, unsurprised. She stretched a few more times, the pleasant ache in her legs grounding her to reality. Athletic bandages had appeared over the course of her run, sitting innocuously by the water bottle. 

Sage thanked the TARDIS with a hum, unravelling a long length before tearing it off. Wrapping it around her knuckles and palm, Sage stretched out her legs with a groan before flexing her fingers.

She hadn’t been practicing her self-defense in awhile, too caught up in the new additions of Jackie and Mickey in her life. She loved them, they were wonderful people. But _god_ did they come over so often. It was like the two of them were so starved for attention that they ambushed Sage at every turn, wanting to spend time with her.

Like attention starved children.

Honestly, if Sage wasn’t so fond of the two of them, she would’ve kicked the two of them out of her apartment by now. The amount of time she spent with them was _exhausting_. She bounced forwards and backwards on her feet, balling her hands up into little fists. Taking a few practice swings in the air, the familiar pattern of _left, right, left_ , _duck_ , causing her to sink back into her mindset.

Sage took her spot by the punching bag, one standing upright instead of hanging. It was TARDIS blue, of course, and Sage took great pleasure in punching it, pummeling it with her fists.

The repetitive motions were soothing, her mind lost in the pattern. She didn’t have to think about anything. Her job, the fact that she was in the TARDIS, the fact that if given the chance she probably wouldn’t ever _leave_ the TARDIS.

Sage swung and missed, her balance skewed and off because of the missed hit. She stumbled, feet struggling to catch themselves as she scrambled to cling onto the heavy punching bag lest she just fall to the ground. 

Her chest heaved, forehead resting on the shiny material. Air rushed in and out of her mouth, hot and heavy as they fogged up the protective material outside the heavy bag. Her body ached, shoulders shaking and knees wobbling as the heavy bag kept her up. 

Sweat and condensation dripped down her face, and she swiped it off with the crook of her elbow, cracking her neck. The ache in her fingers were familiar, a steady pain to focus on. This was better than the run, better than just blanking out her mind. The run she had to focus on breathing, pacing herself, forcing herself to not think about anything.

This. This was much more intense. She flexed her fingers, curling them up and letting go a couple times as the ache set in. Pushing herself off the thing, she squared up, shifting her feet back into position, years of training familiar. Holding her fists up in front of her, she threw the first punch.

Hours later, after cooling down exercises and stretches, Sage fell backwards on the training mat with a low groan, panting, happy yet exhausted. “God, I haven’t exercised that much in _months_.” A smile stretched across her lips, the good pain endorphins flooding her brain. 

The door opened, but Sage didn’t try to see who it was. “If you’re coming in, can you hand me my water bottle?”

“Sage?” Rose’s airy voice drifted through the gymnasium. “The Doctor said you came on board, but I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t ‘til mum _and_ Mickey called threatening me to keep you safe that I did.”

“Did they really threaten you?”

Rose settled down next to Sage’s prone form, an ice cold water bottle held out. She smiled sardonically, “It’s almost like you’re their daughter/friend rather than me. What are you doing here anyway? I didn’t even know the TARDIS had a gym.”

Sage heaved herself up, swinging her legs up then propelling herself forward. “I needed to work some stress out. Exercise is unfortunately the best way to do that.” She stretched forwards, legs out and arms resting on them. 

“Yeah,” Rose wrinkled her nose, and Sage laughed, “I can’t imagine willingly doing exercise. Who taught you how to box?”

“Ah, some college friends of mine pushed me out to try this new gym. Turns out he just wanted to check out the cute trainer. But we paid for a month membership so one of us had to use it otherwise it’d be a waste.” Roman was… not very athletic in the usual sense. And thinking of him made Sage miss her friends even more keenly. 

She shook it off, taking a swig of her water, the cold invigorating her. No time to reminisce of years past. 

“So you’re staying on the TARDIS with us?” Rose asked. “Like permanently, Doctor’s companion and everything?”

“If anything, I’d rather be the TARDIS’s companion,” Sage grumbled, thoughts souring at the reminder of the alien. Rose took a look at her grouchy face, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“Right, fess up, what’d the idiot do now?”

Sage gave Rose a sidelong look from her stretched out position. “He accused me of being a spy, of someone plotting to— to steal the TARDIS or something! Can you believe the guy? I kindly save his life — multiple times!— and he goes about accusing me of plotting evil.”

“Mr Grumpy’s never really been a team player,” Rose said dryly, brown eyes twinkling with amusement, lips twitching up.

“Mr Grumpy,” Sage repeated with a smile, sitting up, raising her arms and leaning to the sides. “I just call him Doctor Oblivious.”

“That works too,” Rose said. “But really, have you seen the glare on his face? That pout when the things he does never works out quite as he wants it to? He frowns _all_ the time. It’s either frowning or manic smiles. There’s no in between.”

“God, I can’t imagine what it was like when it was just the two of you,” Sage said, mock sympathetically, wicking grin splitting on her face. “Tell me, Rose, did he gaze into your eyes as he excitedly explained whatever danger of the week it was attacking you? Did he grip you close, almost shaking you, as his enthusiasm took hold? Did he frown whenever he saw something wrong? Muttering lowly, out loud to himself. Did he glare when someone slighted you?”

Rose glared at Sage, pushing her, as a lovely, red bloomed on her face. Sage doubled over in laughter, “Rose, I was kidding. Mostly. Everyone knows you like the Doctor anyway. There’s no need to hide it.”

Rose made a face, cross between pained and awkward. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to articulate her words. The frustration was in her eyes, words on the tip of her tongue that can’t leave her mouth. 

“What? You don’t have a crush on him anymore?”

“It’s not that,” Rose said. “The Doctor— he’s— he’s wonderful but….”

“But? That’s not how you were acting last time we talked. What? Found a new man to ogle?” Sage teased, smile gentle to show that she was joking.

Rose shoved her but it was half-hearted at best, Sage rocking with the motion and knocking shoulders with her. “The Doctor— he’s like a star. Burning and bright. But… far away. Someone I can admire and watch but never reach.”

Sage frowned, “I think you’re putting him a bit too high on a pedestal if that’s what you think of him.”

“It’s not _that_ ,” Rose insisted. “It’s more like— has he told you he’s 900 years old? I’m barely 20 and he’s centuries older than me. He can probably live longer than me too. What’s the point of being with him if— if— I’m just going to wither and die in the end?”

“I think that’s exactly the point,” Sage countered, raising a brow at the dramatic words. “Life is too short anyway, why not make the most of it and be with him?”

“And when I die, he’ll move onto the next blonde shopgirl from London,” Rose scowled, crossing her arms. “He’s got centuries to live, who’s to say that he won’t just forget about me and move on? Keep running until he gets his next fix.”

“Well, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I don’t think the Doctor forgets on purpose, well— let me rephrase. I don’t think he’ll forget you because he wants to, but more like he has to.”

Rose narrowed her eyes, “Explain.”

“Like you said he’s 900 years old, that is if he’s telling the truth, so he must’ve met plenty of people. If he did, then he must’ve lost just as many as he’s met. And anyone who meets as many people as the Doctor to then also _lose_ as many people, well, maybe forgetting is just a bit easier. Doesn’t mean it’s right, mind,” Sage added, “just an explanation.”

Thoughtfulness crossed on Rose’s face, she leant back, arms holding her weight behind her. She looked older than twenty at that moment, a past haunting her. Sage wondered if she would ever be considered close enough to dig into that history.

“Maybe,” Rose said after a moment of silence, “but I don’t think anything with the Doctor is sustainable right now.” 

“Why, cuz you think you’re not good enough?” The disapproving tone in Sage’s voice made Rose tick a small smile up at Sage. Sage couldn’t help but notice how _young_ Rose looked then, shy and longing, yearning for something. Comfort maybe, stability. Sage could be that for her. _Would_ be that for her, should the Doctor fail.

She shook her head, dirty blonde hair shaggy and loose as they fell in front of her eyes, smile lopsided and crooked, “I just don’t think romance is what I need right now.”

“...Really?” Doubtfulness creeped in Sage’s question, brows ticked up in question. “Cuz last time you came to me you were crying about how you liked the Doctor and how he would never like you back.”

“That was under duress!” Rose protested, “And terribly misconstrued!” 

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Sage teased, and Rose swatted her, hard, Sage laughing wildly as she tried to fend herself from Rose’s attacks. The two of them descended into squabbling, laughing messes, Rose having difficulty hiding her smile, and Sage not even attempting to hide hers.

“In all honesty,” Sage said, both of them having collapsed onto the rubber mat in exhaustion, “I’m proud of you for admitting what you need, even if it seems like a step back. If you don’t need romance then don’t, if it happens anyway then it happens. But fixating on something and trying to force it to happen never works out well.”

“Sounds like a hard lesson learned,” Rose commented idly, turning and resting her cheek on the mat to look Sage in the face. 

Sage hummed, “I’ve got about ten years on you, Rosie, I learned a lot in my life.” Then she tensed, only just noticing the nickname slip out. Rose didn’t seem to notice, or if she did she didn’t mind. The name suggested familiarity, a right Sage didn’t have just yet, having spent the least amount of time with the young woman.

The silence dragged on too long and Sage worried that she had accidentally said something to offend Rose before—

sirens _wailed_.

The two looked to each other and as one, Sage and Rose leapt up and ran to the Doctor.

"What's the emergency?" Rose yelled once they rushed into the console room. The Doctor looked positively giddy as he rushed around the controls, flipping switches and twirling dials.

"It's mauve," the Doctor replied. Like that made any sense. Sage’s fingers twitched, curling, and she bit her bottom lip hard.

The ship lurched, and Sage almost fell onto the barhold. "What the fuck is mauve?" Sage shouted, almost drowned out over the sirens, holding onto dear life on a railing.

"Universal colour for danger," was the reply. Sage narrowed her eyes, yelping when the ship listed over to the side again.

"What happened to red?" Rose wondered, clinging onto the console. A wide, manic smile spread across her face, the tumultuous ride giving her glee. The enthusiasm on her face lit her eyes up, and she looked much more youthful and uncaring as many her age should be. 

"And why mauve? That's like a pale purple, not something flashy to get attention," Sage added, righting herself as the ship calmed slightly.

"That's just humans,” the Doctor said, dismissive, patronizing. Sage’s tongue bled with how hard she bit it. “By everyone else's standards, red's camp. Oh, the misunderstandings. All those red alerts, all that dancing. It's just a warning. If they wanted people to panic, they wouldn't use mauve."

He gestured to the monitor where an object was on it, "It's a basic flight computer. I've hacked into it, slaved the TARDIS. Where it goes, we go." The sirens petered off, getting louder and quieting in intervals.

“That sounds so reassuring,” Sage grumbled. Cautiously, she made her way over to the middle of the room, completing the path just as the ship staggered forwards, hanging onto the control panel.

"How safe is that?" Rose asked, apprehension appearing for the first time since the alarms blared.

"Very," the Doctor reassured.

Giant sparks exploded, everyone jumping in shock. The two women turned to stare, deadpan, at the Doctor who looked sheepish as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Okay, reasonably. Should've said reasonably there."

Panicked beeping echoed in the room, loud and aggravating, and the Doctor jumped back to the monitor, "Oh, no, no, no, no, no! It's jumping time tracks, getting away from us." He typed something into a keypad, frantically pulling levers and pushing a variety of buttons.

"What exactly is this thing?" Rose queried.

"No idea."

"Oh great, a mysterious object hurtling through time and space that may or may not kill us and we're chasing it," Sage muttered. Carefully, she let go of the railing, turbulence having lowered to only slightly bumpy piloting, crossing her arms and glaring at the Doctor. As much as she enjoyed the adventure part of it, she was never one to actively seek out danger. Unlike these two apparently. 

The Doctor shot her a grin, "It's mauve and dangerous! And thirty seconds from the centre of London." He ran around the console, preparing her to land and the familiar wheezing sound commenced.

The TARDIS landed with a soft thud and Rose exited, Sage and the Doctor close behind.

"Do you know how long we can knock around space without having to bump into Earth?" the Doctor asked, in mock annoyance.

"Five days? Or is that only when we're out of milk?" Rose played along.

The Doctor shook his head with a smile, "Of all the species in the universe and it had to come out of a cow."

Sage didn't rise to the bait, her eyes fixed on the barrage balloons above. The Doctor’s eyes looked at Sage, expecting her to continue the joke, and his face fell a bit at not having his banter continued, shaking it off as Rose commented on something else.

Rose and the Doctor walked away, continuing their conversation, and Sage absentmindedly followed, lagging quite a bit behind. She continued on straight away, not noticing that her companions had turned a corner.

The sight of the barrage balloons itched in the back of her mind, familiarity rising. "What other time period had barrage balloons? Vietnam? No, too late for that, when then? Ooh, that rhymed. Oh, oh, oh! World War II!" Sage clapped her hands together in realization, happy to have figured it out, but her face fell at the implications.

She scowled, “World War II, World War II. Just had to be this era that we fell into, my first time traveling historical period and it’s _this_ one. I fucking hate this time period.” Her bottom lip was stinging in pain, and her fists clenched and unclenched together, anger rising at the reminder of the atrocities. Her fists ached from the already sore feeling after the exercise and she had to quickly stretch out her fingers.

Trembling, she shook out her hands, sore and aching, the excess anger trying to work itself out. “Okay, okay, just— not going to— to think about the— that. Barrage balloons, balloons, what happened… _then_ that would have balloons? And where are we?”

The cold air kissed her cheeks, a chilly breeze wrapping around Sage like a Death’s touch. She rubbed her arms together, hugging in an attempt to get some semblance of warmth. It only reminded her that she was wearing a tank top and leggings. 

Gritting her teeth, Sage spun on her heel, trudging back to where the TARDIS was parked. Quickly, she threw on an eyeballed, possibly time era appropriate coat and pants, not wanting to stick out more than she had to. New, black warm gloves slid on her hands and she rubbed them together to warm herself up.

She ran to try and catch up with her companions, but too late, the Doctor was entering a door and Rose was halfway up a ladder just as Sage got close enough to find them. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she threw her hands up in the air. "You know what, they're fine on their own. I'm going back to the TARDIS and I'll wait for whoever comes first."

She started her trek back, grumbling all the way. This was supposed to be _her_ adventure, the envious, possessive little thing in the back of her mind hissed. She was supposed to be the one in the middle of all the trouble. Now she was walking back, tail tucked between her legs, to the TARDIS, waiting like a housewife.

Sage scowled at her own thoughts, pinching herself to try and shake away the line of thinking. This wasn’t helping. There had to be a reason why the TARDIS had dropped them off here, going so far as to intercept a panic alarm to get their attention.

She took in her surroundings. Tall, dark, concrete buildings. Brick and mortar definitely gave off European vibes, but something more colonized than some other countries. Her fingers hovered over some of the brickwork, taking in the wear and tear. Alarms wailed in the distance, and searchlights blinked in and out of existence. 

With a tilt of her head, Sage looked up at the dark sky. Red, white and blue flew over head, and not in the pattern she was used to. Union Jacks flew over alight in the dark, brisk night. “Well, that solves the where,” Sage muttered, dropping her hand and walking back to the TARDIS, “now we only need to find out the when.”

She leant back against the door of the TARDIS, chewing her bottom lip absently as she tried to remember anything and everything about England during World War II. Hopefully, she was right about it being the Second Great War as well. But given that by 1940, there were nearly 2000 balloons over London alone, she was willing to take that risk. 

“London…” Sage mulled over the location. “There was the Blitz…. Could it be?”

"Rose? Sage?" the Doctor called, startling Sage from her rumination. He rounded a corner and noticed a cat, he picked it up. "You know, one day, just one day, maybe I'd meet someone who gets the whole don't wander off thing," he said to the cat.

"Oh, don't be a hypocrite. You wander off just as much in your own right." Sage retorted crossly. The Doctor looked up and Sage was leaning against the TARDIS door, leg kicked up behind her and arms crossed.

"I'm a Time Lord, Sage. I don't wander off," he replied.

"Oh, please that's just a fancy name. You have no idea what you're doing most of the time," she argued back, pushing off the door.

"Well, where would the fun be if I did?" he said, grinning at her.

Sage stared up at him with a cute, indignant look as she crossed her arms. The moment was broken when the TARDIS phone rang. The two exchanged looks, and Sage glanced down at the cat still in the Doctor's arms with a raised brow.

He glanced down before putting the cat down and walked over to Sage. The Doctor opened the compartment to the phone, "How can you be ringing? What's that about? Ringing? What am I gonna do with a ringing phone?"

"I suppose you'd pick it up and see what they're ringin' about," Sage suggested, also looking insanely curious, brows drawn together in fascination.

"Don't answer it. It's not for you," a young woman interrupted.

The Doctor and Sage turned simultaneously to stare at the young woman questioningly. She was covered up, hair pinned in a braid, dark clothes ragged and threadbare but still warm. Her breaths fogged out heavily as her chest heaved, arm out as if trying to stop one of them from picking up the phone.

"And how do you know that?" the Doctor asked warily.

"'Cause I do," she replied promptly. "And I'm tellin' ya, don't answer it."

"If you know everything, tell us why it's ringing then,” Sage asked skeptically, arms crossed and brows raised. "'Cause it's not even a real phone."

The young woman shook her head and walked away. "Hey, wait! I'm not done— oh— whatever," Sage gave up on calling after her when she only picked up her pace. She turned back to the Doctor who shrugged. The two stared at the ringing phone before the Doctor hesitantly picked it up.

Nothing but silence, and the Doctor shook his head at Sage's questioning look.

"Hello?" he tried. "This is the Doctor speaking, how may I help you?"

A child's voice rang out, "Mummy?"

The Doctor pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it incredulously as the child asked again, "Mummy?" He put the phone back to his ear and asked, "Who is this? Who's speaking?"

"Are you my mummy?" was the answer.

"Who is this?" the Doctor asked more forcefully.

"Mummy?"

"How did you ring here? This isn't even a real phone, it's not connected," and with a click the call ended. The Doctor pulled the phone away and stared at it incredulously. He slowly put the phone back on its cradle. He answered Sage's silent question with a sharp shake of his head.

"Where's Rose?" he asked instead.

"Dunno, last I checked she was climbing up a ladder," Sage shrugged at the Doctor's look.

Loud crashing got their attention and the pair barely exchanged looks before rushing off toward the sound. They rushed around the neighborhood before hearing people speak, "The planes are coming. Can't you hear them? Into the shelter. None of your nonsense, now move it!"

Following the voices, the Doctor stood atop dustbins and Sage kept watch on the ground, grumbling at her short stature. Something moved in the darkness, the whisking movements of the searchlights barely illuminating the area. The movement was there and gone again, in the shape of a person, short, slight, young.

Sage frowned, tilting her head to make her way over where she saw the movement. It headed over towards the back of the house. The Doctor jumped down, feet stomping heavily onto the ground. “Over there?” Without a word, he grabbed her hand and they rushed off.

They entered a house through the back and made their way to the dining room. At least a dozen children were there and the young woman from before was herding them.

The Doctor made his way to a seat but paused before he sat down. He tilted his head, as if warring internally with himself, and Sage wondered what he was debating now. He squared his shoulders before pulling the chair out then gestured to her.

She raised a brow and he insistently nodded towards the chair, silently telling her to sit. Sage made her way to the chair, gingerly sitting in it, carefully, like the Doctor would pull the chair out from behind her before she could sit down on it. But he didn’t do that, instead, helping her to push the chair in.

He settled heavily on top of the back of the chair, pushing all his weight down onto it, making her unable to move after he settled. Sage frowned looking for another chair but not finding any. She shrugged, pushing the thought from her mind for now. 

There was a mystery afoot and if she focused on the minutiae of the Doctor’s gestures then there would be no solving it.

The young woman, who really looked more like a teenager now that Sage was thinking about it, was cutting into the meat and the children were gathered around talking. Sage tilted her head, the hustle and bustle, inane chatter of young kids echoed around the two of them. She and the Doctor eagerly eavesdropped.

"It's got to be black market. He couldn't get this all on coupons," a young boy said seriously to another.

Sage smiled secretly at that but the woman looked up sharply, "Ernie, how many times? We are guests in this house. We will not make comments of that kind. Washing up."

The other children laughed at Ernie while he looked shamefaced.

"Oh, Nancy!" he whined.

Nancy shook her head with a smile before her gaze landed on another boy, "Haven't seen you here before."

The boy nodded his head at another one, "He told me about it."

"Sleeping rough?"

"Yes, miss," he nodded again.

"Alright then," she passed a plate full of food around. "One slice each, and I want to see each of ya chewin' properly."

The boys accepted the plate with a grateful, "Thank you, miss."

Sage tensed when the plate reached her, and she didn’t know what to do, not hungry but not wanting to feel ungracious. The Doctor swooped in, taking the plate from the boy next to Sage with a too wide grin and bright, "Thanks, miss!" hands in front of her and arms surrounding her head.

The children gasped loudly at his voice and some even dropped their forks.

"It's alright!" Nancy held her arms out in reassurance, "Everybody stay where you are."

Sage smirked in amusement when one of the boys from earlier stared up at the Doctor in shock, a piece of turkey hanging from his mouth. Their eyes darted down at Sage to up to the Doctor, trying to compute that two strangers had somehow infiltrated their own infiltration.

"Good here, innit?" the Doctor ignored the stares, tilting his head to stare at the menagerie of children and one teen. He set the plate down, neatly transferring the turkey onto Sage’s plate, arms still between her head, forcing Sage to move her head with his movements. "Who's got the salt?"

He was probably fucking with her. 

"Back in your seats! He shouldn't be here either. Neither of them should," Nancy ordered, a nasty glare aimed at the two of them.

Sage rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the varnished table, "Like that ever stopped him. He sees a sign saying, 'Keep Out' and takes that as a suggestion instead." She looked behind at the man resting on the top of her chair, a mocking glare on her face, and he rolled his eyes in response. A hand settled on her head, heavy and warm.

The children tensed at Sage's words but relaxed when they saw her smile reassuringly, the sight of a woman much less threatening than a man’s. Sage didn’t take it offensively, it was only stereotypes and stereotypes often had some value of truth. Sage was smaller, slight, saner, than the Doctor looked right now. She didn’t look like the real threat, and she would keep it that way, an upper hand men and sometimes women often never see coming.

She picked up the fork and knife, aware that the kids were staring at how her fork was in her left hand and the knife in the right instead of the other way around. 1941 where modern family values were only just starting to be ingrained into polite society and how the left hand is the devil’s hand. Sage snorted, popping a piece of turkey into her mouth.

Bit dry for her taste, she poured some gravy on it. 

"So you lot," he started, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand, "what's the story?"

"What'd you mean?" Ernie asked.

"You're homeless, right? Living rough?"

"Why'd you want to know? You a copper?" one of the boys stiffened, asked defensively, glare harsh on his face. He was protective of his fellow runaways it seemed. Young, but not as old as Nancy, thirteen, if Sage had to guess. Raised to be the man of the house, or at least a man, to protect. 

"If he's a copper, then I'm a queen," Sage snorted, cutting into the meat for lack of anything better to do. Never was one for turkey. She stared at her plate, unsure what to say, fidgeting.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "She's right, I'm not a copper. What's a copper gonna do with you lot, anyway? Arrest you for starving?"

Sage and the children giggled and the uncomfortable air slowly dissipated. The boys started eating again, one slowly picking up his fork and spearing a piece of food and chewing. That quickly got the rest of them to start devouring the feast.

"It's 1941, you lot shouldn't be in London. You should've evacuated into the country by now," the Doctor pointed out.

"I was evacuated. They took me to a farm," a boy piped up.

"So why'd you come back?"

"There was a man there…."

"Yeah, same with Ernie. Two homes ago," another interrupted, piping up with a cheerful tone, eager to help.

Ernie shoved him, "Shut up. It's better on the streets anyway. Better food."

"Yeah, Nancy always gets us the best food."

A smile bloomed on the Doctor's face, pride and pleasure at Nancy’s responsibility, "So that's what you do, is it, Nancy?" He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, rocking the chair side to side in his jubilation.

"What is?" she asked, a hard edge in her voice. Her hands had flattened on the table, leaning over slightly, table taking her weight.

"Soon as the sirens go, you find a big fat family meal, still warm on the table with everyone down in the air raid shelter and, bingo! Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London Town. Puddings for all! As long as the bombs don't get you."

"Something wrong with that?" Nancy asked, steely.

"Wrong with it? It's brilliant. I'm not sure if it's Marxism in action or a West End musical."

"Too young, Doctor," Sage commented, amused. Well, there had to be some good in the bad, and even if this was technically bad, there was something warm about how much these kids cared for each other. Nancy was cutting up one of the boys’ meat for him, kind and patient. The other boys were roughhousing each other, not enough to bully, but just enough to suggest that this had been going on for a while.

Nancy glowered at the Doctor, hands on her hips, "Why'd you follow me? What'd you want?"

"I want to know how a phone that isn't a phone gets a phone call. You seem to be the one to ask."

"I did you a favour. I told you not to answer it, that's all I'm telling ya," Nancy said firmly.

"Great, thanks," he said sarcastically. "And I wanna find a blonde in a Union Jack. I mean a specific one, I didn't just wake up this morning with a craving."

The children laughed and Sage shook her head in fond exasperation. She pushed the plate away from her, laying down her fork and knife. The Doctor’s arms were warm around her head, blanketing her with weight and comfort. He rested his chin on the top of her head, pointy but comfortable. 

Nancy was unimpressed and walked over to him, yanking her plate away.

"Hey!" the Doctor cried indignantly. "What's she done wrong?"

"You took two slices," she said simply. "And you shouldn't talk about other women when you've your wife right there."

Sage shot up and jerked, hit the Doctor in the chin. They both hissed as Sage rushed out a litany of apologies. She turned to look at Nancy, "We’re not married, Nancy."

"Courting then, 'cause the two of you sure are sweet on each other." Sage sputtered but Nancy ignored her, flat glare on her face. She crossed her arms, eying how comfortable the two seemed to be with the Doctor on top and Sage sitting. Sage subsided, biting her tongue on a harsh retort.

Nancy looked at the Doctor, "No blondes, no flags. Anything else before you two leave?"

"Yeah, there is actually. Thanks for asking. Something I've been looking for, would've fallen from the sky about a month ago, but not a bomb." The Doctor shifted slightly and grabbed a notebook and pencil from his inside pocket.

Flipping it open, he leaned down, chin on Sage’s shoulder, and started to sketch, arms around Sage’s shoulders this time, "Not the usual kind anyway. Wouldn't have exploded. Would've just buried itself in the ground somewhere, and it would've looked something like…"

With a final stroke, "This." He showed them the drawing, and Nancy stared at it intently but didn't say anything.

The knock on the door was thunderous and the children gasped.

"Mummy?" a child's voice sang, "Mummy, are you in there?"

Sage slid off the chair, pushing away the Doctor and went to the window, pushing the curtains aside. She jumped when a small child with a gas mask appeared suddenly, knocking. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Mummy?" the child continued. He tilted his head. There were no eyes for him to see, securely locked behind the gas mask. Sage lifted the curtain higher, blond hair curtained the mask, a bright contrast with the dirty, old thing. 

He was young, probably no more than six, a child, barely brought into the world and asking for his mother. Sage’s heart ached in sympathy. She looked for locks on the window as Nancy started to panic.

"Who was the last one in?" Nancy asked urgently.

"Them," Ernie pointed at Sage and the Doctor.

"No, they came round the back. Who came in the front?" Nancy looked crazy, maniacal as she tried to garner answers. 

"Me," a child said, paling at the realization.

"Did you close the door?" Nancy rounded on the boy, intense and forceful. He cowered at the intensity, sinking deeper in the chair. Nancy slammed her hands hard on the table, jerking his head up to look Nancy in the eye.

"I— I— uh—" he stuttered, looking for all the world like a deer in highlights. 

"Alf, did you close the door?" she asked, a little hysterically. Sage stopped, blinked at the emotion from Nancy’s voice, the curtain falling, blocking the view of the boy, as she turned back to the hysteric teen. A door wasn’t going to do anything against a bomb. What was latching it gonna do?

"Mummy? Mummy?" the child's voice got louder.

Nancy rushed down the hallway, and shut and bolted the door. The slam of the wood echoed in the dining room, reverberating in the house. Sage frowned, rubbing her arms as gooseflesh prickled on her skin. She slowly walked back to the congregation of kids, jerking her head to a frantic Nancy when the Doctor just looked around with fascination. 

The Doctor and Sage followed behind her, Sage trailing slightly behind the duo. 

This was it. She was stuck in the middle of an adventure, something with consequences, with choices that could change the future. It was— an entirely different experience, being in a new time period. Entirely different from being on an alien world/station, even one in the future. It was a slightly heady feeling, knowing that with a single choice, a single word, the future could be irrevocably changed. Sage didn’t know if she could handle the responsibility. 

"What's that then?" the Doctor asked, concerned. The three stopped in the middle of a hallway, eyes watching the front door. The other kids were whispering in the dining room, terrified and small. "It's never easy being the only child left out in the cold," he mentioned off-handedly. Sage stood quietly on the side and arms around herself in comfort.

"I suppose you'd know," Nancy replied snidely.

"I do, actually, yes," he smiled pleasantly.

Nancy huffed, "It's not exactly a child," pushing past them to the dining room.

"Mummy."

Sage and the Doctor watched the children pass slightly confused out the back. Nancy was around them, reassuring with sweet placations, gentle reassurances, warm hands, loving touches that were slightly refrained. Sage frowned at Nancy, who was biting her lip and only lightly touching the boys’ shoulders before quickly pulling away from them. Distant but warm. Yearning, just like that boy.

"Mummy?"

Sage broke off from the Doctor and went to the door, "Are you alright dear?"

The child stuck his hand through the letterbox, and Sage saw the y shaped scar on the back of his hand. She crouched down, hand reaching out to examine the kid. Her gloves hovered over the hand with uncertainty, the scar giving her an odd feeling. Sage shook it off, gently taking the boy’s hand, turning over and around.

"Please let me in, mummy," the child said, pleading.

Glass blasted around Sage and the kid, specks of the pieces surrounding them, a few cutting Sage’s cheek, red and angry in her wounds. The child withdrew his hand quickly, and Sage whirled around, looking incredulously at Nancy, whose arm was outstretched. Sage stood up, hands on her hips. 

"You mustn't let him touch ya!" Nancy cried.

"What happens if he touches you?" the Doctor asked, Sage coming back to his side. She tucked her hands in her pocket, cold seeping in. She huddled closer to the Doctor’s side, sharing in his warmth.

"He'll make you like him," she answered cryptically.

"And what's he like?" Sage asked, voice cold. She could take a lot, but violence against a child? That was reprehensible. 

"I've gotta go," Nancy sidestepped her question, stepping away.

"Nancy, what's he like?" the Doctor asked again.

She hesitated before saying, "He's empty."

The phone rang and Nancy nearly jumped out of her skin, "It's him. He can make phones ring, he can. Just like with that police box, you saw." She stared fearfully at the ringing phone, poised and tensed to run.

Sage and the Doctor exchanged looks before the Doctor picked up the phone, "Are you my mummy?" the child asked.

Nancy snatched the phone out of the Doctor's hand and slammed the phone down. The radio turned itself on, and music played but the child's voice was over it, "Mummy? Please let me in, mummy."

Sage turned the tuner but stopped when a toy monkey suddenly sprang to life.

"Muu-mmy, mu-mmy, mu-mmy," the child said through the monkey. The Doctor picked the toy up, twisting it around and finding no batteries. Fascination lit up his blue eyes as he turned the toy over in his hands.

"Stay if you want," Nancy said before she left, back door swinging shut like a death sentence.

The child stuck his hand through the letterbox again, "Mummy, let me in. Please, mummy."

This time the Doctor knelt by the letterbox, Sage behind him. His hand was so small, smooth and unblemished. Pain choked Sage’s heart, the begging piercing her with sorrow. He was just lost. A lost little boy looking for his mother. 

"Please let me in," he begged.

"Your mummy isn't here." The Doctor tried.

"Are you my mummy?" the child asked innocently.

"No mummies here. None but us chickens," the Doctor said with a small, kind smile on his face.

Sage coughed, and the Doctor corrected, "Us chickens and Sage."

"I'm scared," the child said with a small voice.

"Why are the other children scared of you?"

"Please let me in, mummy. I'm scared of the planes and bombs."

The Doctor turned to look at Sage who couldn’t hide the sorrowful look in her eyes. He sighed and said, "Okay, I'm opening the door now."

The child withdrew his hand from the letterbox and the Doctor stood up. He drew back the bolt and opened the door, but the child was gone. He exchanged a worried look with Sage before the two took off down the street.

"What happened to the kid that made everyone so scared of him?" Sage asked, having followed the Doctor with no real direction in mind. She had noticed as the two walked further, the town got smaller, the forest bigger, vast hills and pastures getting larger. Empty.

"I don't know, but it seemed like Nancy's involved with it."

"That why we're following her?"

The two turned towards train tracks. Nancy’s shadow, a faint figure of the woman, was hurrying down them, head sweeping right and left to ensure she wasn’t being followed. Unfortunately, she was. The Doctor renewed his efforts in answer and Sage, helpless to do anything else, went after him.

Nancy hurried into a shack, rundown and almost beaten up, checking every so often over her shoulder. She unlocked the door, walking inside. Sage and the Doctor walked up to her easily, standing in the doorway, and Nancy spun around.

"How'd you follow me here?" she demanded.

"Good at following, me. Got the nose for it," the Doctor replied happily.

"People can't follow me if I don't want them to," she said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"My nose has special powers," he replied nonchalantly. Sage shook her head, bit back the smile threatening to spread across her face. He was so flippant, even in potential danger that she couldn’t help but be amused. It certainly brought the tension down.

"Yeah? That why it's… uh…."

"What?" he asked defensively.

Nancy shook her head, "Nothing."

"What?" he persisted, eyes sweeping over to where Sage was shaking with silent giggles. Nancy, for all her distance, knew her humour just as everyone else. She looked so much younger without the sour glare on her face, poking fun at the Doctor. 

Maybe that was his true superpower, getting made fun of.

"Nothing!" she teased. "Do your ears have special powers too?"

Sage barked out a laugh before immediately covering her mouth. The other two looked at her, Nancy with a wide grin and the Doctor with a betrayed look on his face.

"Sorry, sorry," she managed to force out. "Can't breathe." Sage forced herself to take a deep breath and stopped laughing. "Okay, I'm okay. Continue on," she waved at them.

The Doctor shook his head with a rueful smile, "Nancy, there's something chasing you and the other kids. Looks like a boy and it isn't a boy, and it started about a month ago, right?"

Nancy’s smile fell, replaced with a scowl, she turned away, "Goodbye mister, miss."

"Nancy, please," Sage begged. She had all the cards, all the information, if Nancy wouldn’t help them, then there was nothing Sage or the Doctor could do, and that might just mean death. "Give us the information, and we'll be on our way, promise."

Nancy turned back, and bit her lip. Indecision warred in her eyes, "There was a bomb. A bomb that wasn't a bomb. Fell at the other end of Limehouse Green Station."

"Take us there," the Doctor demanded.

Nancy shook her head, "There're soldiers and guards. You'll never get through, but…"

"But?" Sage asked hopefully. This was good, Sage and the Doctor could work with this. Sage watched as hesitancy, pain, and trauma flashed behind Nancy’s eyes, the need to protect and conceal powerful. 

"You sure you really wanna know what's been going on?"

"We really wanna know," the Doctor said.

"Then there's someone you have to meet first."

"Who's that?" Sage asked curiously.

"The Doctor," Nancy replied simply.

The Doctor and Sage's brows furrowed and Nancy turned away to walk.

"Future you?" Sage questioned.

The Doctor shook his head, "If it was, I'd know," he tapped his head, and Sage nodded in understanding.

She looked over at Nancy walking away, "C'mon, else we'll lose her."

The two quickly followed Nancy, staying close behind but not within earshot.

"Should we worry more about where Rose is?" Sage asked. "Because I am and I'm trying my best not to have a panic attack about that right now."

The Doctor opened his mouth, but Nancy interrupted, "There, that's where it is," she pointed at a securely enforced area. “The bomb's under that tarpaulin. They put the fence up overnight. See that building? The hospital."

The Doctor took out a pair of binoculars, zooming into the pointed area. He brought the binoculars down and offered it to Sage who declined.

He shrugged and looked back into them, "What about it?"

Sage squinted, barely making out soldiers and searchlights. If the place warranted a military guard, then that had to be because that bomb was out of the ordinary. The government rarely put out a military guard unless it was something they didn’t know about, if they knew what the hell was happening. Nothing good ever came out of a military guard. It had to be dangerous, or dangerous enough that the government wanted it under its control.

"That's where the Doctor is."

"Why're you so adamant on us talking to the Doctor?" Sage asked.

"The Doctor knows more about the boy than I do. He had it, talked to it and studied it."

She stared intently at the bomb, "Maybe then you won't want to know what's there."

Nancy began to walk away from the camp. Sage frowned at the admission, something more was at play here, a hidden secret hiding in her eyes there. Nancy knew something that she didn’t want to reveal. Sage narrowed her eyes, suspicious of the young woman. 

"Where're you going?" the Doctor asked.

"There was a lot of food in that house. I've got mouths to feed. Should be safe enough now," Nancy answered.

"Before you go, can I ask? Who'd you lose? Cuz a young woman like you, mothering those kids, you're trying to make up for who you lost, yeah?" Sage asked, softly, hesitantly, it had been itching at the back of her mind. She only hoped she hadn’t dug into old wounds.

Nancy swallowed hard, "My little brother. Jamie. One night I went out looking for food. Same night that thing fell. I told him not to follow me, told him it was dangerous, but he just... he just didn't like being on his own." Her voice broke and she looked away.

Well, Sage blinked. That was… that hit closer to home than it should. Before she could stop to think about it, Sage reached out and squeezed Nancy's hand in comfort before dropping it. A shot of pang squeezed Sage’s heart, and she looked away from Nancy, desperately pushing away thoughts of her past.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked, voice slightly softer.

Nancy gave an incredulous laugh, looking at the Doctor as if he were stupid. "In the middle of an air raid? What'd ya think happened?"

The Doctor nodded before smiling, "Amazing."

Sage’s eyes widened, and she bit her tongue before the curse dropped from her mouth, propriety stopping her from the vulgarity. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe in deep before saying something she might regret. What was so amazing in losing a sibling?

"What is?"

"1941." Above them, planes dropped bombs in the distance, loud and booming, shaking the dirt in its aftermath. A barrage balloon hovered up high, blocking lights from illuminating on the trio. Sage looked up, not wanting to somehow thrash the Doctor for his weird ass comments. There were loud explosions heard near them.

The Doctor lowered his binoculars. "Right now, not very far from here, a German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it. Nothing. Until one, tiny, damp little island says "no". 'No'. Not here. A mouse in front of a lion."

Sage stared. 

Of course, the Doctor always found a way to be unpredictable yet totally predictable. She hadn’t expected for him to somehow find something _good_ in the middle of war. But, since he was the only one she knew that actually _fought_ in a war, he qualified to comment. His fascination with humans was something she always knew, and that really showed when he looked at Nancy in admiration. 

"You're amazing, the lot of you. Dunno what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me. Off you go then… do what you've gotta do. Save the world."

Nancy stared at him, bemused but thoughtful, before walking away.

"You know, you’re a better man than you think you are, Doctor," Sage commented idly. It was… an interesting choice for him to give Nancy a pep talk in that way, but it… bolstered the young woman, gave her something to fight for: her future. That and someone else’s.

"No, I'm really not. You don't want to know what I can do," the Doctor said.

Sage stared at him for a long time, "Maybe I don't, but I know what you've done for the universe, if the TARDIS's constant bragging is something to go by. And maybe you feel like you're a monster, but I don't think you are. Just… take the compliment for what it is, okay?"

The two were quiet as they walked to the gates of the hospital.

"Okay," the Doctor said quietly after several moments. Sage didn't reply, only nodded and tucked her hands into her pockets.

When they reached the gate, it was locked. The Doctor reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his sonic. He flicked a switch and the lock sparked before unlocking. Sage pulled the chain off and cast it aside as the Doctor opened the gate. They walked in and entered a dark ward. There were rows and rows of people lying on beds, gas masks covering their entire faces.

"Oh my god," Sage breathed out in horror. Her hands clutched the insides of her pockets. She was mesmerized. There had to be dozens if not maybe hundreds of patients inside this hospital. If this was just one room of the infected, how many more were there? 

The Doctor laid a hand, heavy and sorrowful on her shoulder, and tried to tug her away, "C'mon let's go find this Doctor."

They exited the ward and followed the brighter hallway, another ward better lit than the other. Even more rows of people lying lifelessly with gas masks filled the room. Sage’s stomach clenched with fear, the idea that these things lying here with no explanation as to why. 

Crash!

Sage jumped, nerves jumpy and hackles raised. The two weren’t alone, something was watching them from the shadows. Sage’s arms pricked with gooseflesh beneath her coat. The Doctor pulled her behind him protectively as they turned around.

An old man entered, a hand up in surrender, "My apologies, I hadn't meant to scare you."

The Doctor relaxed minutely and Sage cautiously came forward to stand by the Doctor's side. "You're the Doctor?" Sage asked warily.

"I am, Dr Constantine," he nodded. "And who are you?"

"Curious about them," she nodded at the people. "Nancy sent us."

"Nancy? That means you've been asking about the bomb."

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Why're they wearing gas masks?"

"They're not," Dr Constantine answered cryptically.

"What in the world does that mean?" Sage asked incredulously. Cautiously, she slid out of the Doctor’s protective hold, standing at his side instead. She watched with wary eyes at the old man. His chest was heaving up and down sporadically, like he was struggling to breathe. His lab coat was stained yellow, old and ragged. 

Was he the only doctor here? Where were the nurses? His aides? Hell, even other doctors. Something was not right here. And it had to do with that empty boy. 

"Check them out for yourself," he waved them off. He staggered to a chair, sitting down heavily.

The Doctor left Sage’s side and went to check the people. His sonic was out in an instant, scanning and busy with its little blue light. Sage watched from a distance, inching closer to the door, and watching that doctor with wariness. 

"Don't touch the flesh else you'll become just like them," Constantine warned.

"Were they caught in the blast?" Sage asked.

"No," he laughed before hacking. It was a terrible, terrible cough, one that rattled the lungs and echoed in the room, phlegm building up and trying to escape.

Concern outweighed wariness. Sage approached him, worried, but he waved her off. "You're sick. Why're you still here working?" she asked, concerned, still hovering over him.

"Dying, actually. I'm only here because no one else can. Are you a doctor?" he asked, addressing the Doctor.

"I have my moments," the Doctor answered nonchalantly.

"Have you examined any of them?" he asked.

"Just the one, and the injuries are extensive. Massive head trauma, mostly to the left side…" he ran the sonic over the other side. "Partial collapse of the chest cavity, mostly to the right. There's some scarring on the back of the hand and the gas mask seems to be fused to the flesh but I can't see any burns."

"Examine another one," Constantine suggested.

The Doctor turned his head but did as asked. A quick scan and the Doctor turned the sonic off. "This… isn't possible," he said incredulously.

"What isn't?" Sage asked.

He ignored her and went to another body. And another. And another. The Doctor whirled around to stare at Constantine, blue eyes bright with confusion, "How? They all have the same injuries!"

"Yes," Constantine said simply.

"Exactly the same. Identical, all of them. Right down to the scar on the back of the hand." The Doctor started to mutter to himself, still using his sonic and staring at the results in disbelief. Sage and Constantine seemed to be pushed out of mind as he tried to make sense of the prognosis.

Dr Constantine’s eyes wandered down to his own hand, Sage following his line of sight. That scar on his hand was just barely visible in the dimmed yellow light of the room. Her eyes widened and she gasped quietly. Sage backed away, positioning herself by the door.

He was alive. He was still alive. He touched that kid, and he was aware of his last few moments, of his time fleeting and ending soon. He could respond. Constantine _knew_ something about this boy, this disease that happened. And he was _alive_ , even with the extensive injuries. 

Was there a reason for them to have so many of them to be injured so extensively? Why are they still here if they were dead? Or… if Constantine was going to turn into whatever laid on the beds like Nancy suggested but Constantine still took that risk for them then they had to still be worth saving. Still…

 _alive_. 

Sage’s heart dropped.

"How did this happen? How did it start?" the Doctor asked quickly, rounding on Constantine. He marched towards the sitting man, looming with insane curiosity. 

"When that bomb dropped, there was only one victim," Constantine started.

"Dead?"

"At first. His injuries were truly dreadful. By the following morning, every doctor and nurse who had treated him, who had touched him, had those exact same injuries. By the morning after that, every patient in the same ward had the exact same injuries. Within a week, the entire hospital. Physical injuries, as plague. Can you explain that? What would you say was the cause of death?"

"The head trauma," the Doctor said automatically.

"No."

"Asphyxiation," he tried again.

"No."

"They're not dead," Sage said quietly.

"What?" the Doctor said incredulously, face turned in surprise at her.

"She's right," Constantine nodded. "They're not dead."

He rapped his cane loudly against a metal bin. All of a sudden, the patients shot up.

Sage yelped quietly, jumping slightly. "Okay, who's scared? I am, I'm never gonna look at gas masks the same way again."

"It's alright." Constantine assured them. "They're harmless. They just… sort of, sit there. No heartbeat, no life signs of any kind. They just… don't die."

"And they've just been left here? Nobody's doing anything?" the Doctor asked.

The bodies laid down again, sleepy and languid in their movements. Dazed and unable to do anything but rest again. Dr Constantine looked at the zombies with such pity and concern, chest rattling with each raspy breath he took. "I try to make them as comfortable as possible. What else is there?"

Constantine sighed, "Before this war, I was a husband, father and grandfather. Now I am not, but I am still a doctor."

"Yeah," the Doctor admitted. "Know the feeling."

Constantine started hacking and coughing loudly, "Stay back, stay back," he warned. "Listen, top floor. Room 802's where they took the first victim - the one from the crash site. And you must find Nancy again."

Why would he bother with Nancy—? "Jamie was the first victim," Sage said with realization. Pity struck her with a hot iron knife, twisting in her stomach. To lose a sibling, a younger sibling was devastating. To have to _abandon_ that sibling, _knowing_ that you had to abandon them… and knowing where they were, calling after you.

That was torture.

"Yes, yes," he coughed loudly. "Go to her and she mi- Mi- Mu- mum, mummy. Are you my mummy?"

Sage and the Doctor watched in horror as a gas mask protruded horribly out of Constantine's mouth. His eyes became the gas mask, and it fused onto his face, and he went limp.

"Leaving? That sounds like a great idea right now," Sage suggested nervously.

"Hello?" A voice echoed in the distance.

The Doctor and Sage looked at each other, "Rose!" before quickly exiting.

They ran out and met two people walking towards them. A man in a period era jacket shook the Doctor's hand, "Good evening. Hope I'm not interrupting, Jack Harkness. I've been hearing all about you on the way over."

Jack's eyes fell onto Sage, "Though not enough about you." His smile turned flirtatious, and he reached to grab her hand. He kissed the back of her glove, "Captain Jack Harkness, and who might you be, pretty princess?"

Sage retracted her hand with a slight grimace, discreetly wiping it on her jacket. "Sage, and I'd appreciate it if you toned down the flirting toward me. It makes me uncomfortable," Sage said.

Jack tilted his head, looking at her curiously. But he grinned wide, friendly, and gave a small nod of consent and Sage smiled back, slightly charmed. It wasn’t everyday where a man just accepted a woman’s rejection. "For your information though, I'm not a princess. I'm a queen."

She couldn’t help but add the statement. Historically, queens had done much better (and much worse but well there wasn’t really a competition to all the horrendous stuff kings did, was there) than princesses ever did. Especially alone.

Jack chuckled, "Feisty, alright, Queenie. Anything for you."

Sage stiffened at the nickname and instantly realized who the Face of Boe was. That cheeky face! Or… well, she had to not get ahead of herself, maybe he wasn’t the Face of Boe, maybe it was just a terrible coincidence. But Jack smiled at her, large and dimpled. And Sage knew she was right.

"Done with your nattering?" the Doctor interrupted her thoughts with an irritable tone.

Jack rolled his eyes, "Real pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Spock."

The Doctor turned with an amused look at Rose, brows raising as if to ask if she were serious about that alias. The blonde only shrugged with a mischievous smirk.

Jack walked away, not getting the joke and straight to business. Sage giggled, hurrying after him, "So what's a guy like yourself doing here?"

"I wanna make a deal to some Time Agents, just my luck you came," he winked.

Sage clicked her tongue at him, irritable, "I told you not to flirt with me." Well, if this was the Face of Boe, Sage couldn’t wait until he turned into a giant head. 

He backed off easily. Not something a villain would do, someone with nefarious intent. Though he could just have morals. "Sorry, what're a couple of Time Agents like yourselves doing here?" he asked.

The two reached a door, and Sage pushed it open, "Look for yourself."

Jack looked at her curiously before going to scan a body, "Impossible."

"What kind of Chula ship landed here?" the Doctor demanded, feet stomping closer to Sage and Jack. Rose must’ve filled him on however she and Jack met, whatever he needed the Time Agents for. 

"What?"

"He said it was a warship. He stole it. Parked it somewhere out there, somewhere a bomb's gonna fall on it - unless we make him an offer," Rose added.

"What kind of warship?" the Doctor asked harshly. He loomed over Jack, presence strong and overbearing. 

"Does it matter?" Jack asked, agitated.

"Okay," Sage, ever the mediator, intervened. "Tone it down, boys. Before we get out a measuring stick."

The Doctor clenched his jaw, but didn’t relent from his glare.

Jack blew out a harsh breath. "What's the ship got to do with this?" he gritted out, turning away from the other man’s glare. He crossed his arms, fingers tapping slightly in irritation. A tell. Jack was hiding something. Something he didn’t want the three of them to know. 

"This started at the bomb site. It's got everything to do with it. What kind of warship?"

Jack puffed up his chest, anger flashing across his face even as his words came out panicked. "An ambulance!" He spat it out, red with embarrassment and waspish in his temper. Jack fumbled with his wrist device and showed a hologram of the ship.

"That's what you chased through the Time Vortex. It's space junk. I wanted to kid you it was valuable. It's empty. I made sure of it. Nothing but a shell. I threw it at you. Saw your time travel vehicle, love the retro look, by the way, nice panels, threw you the bait…"

"Conman?" Sage asked. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with this whole thing. An ambulance couldn’t wreak such havoc. Not possible. All there would be on the thing would be supplies to save the wounded, cure the diseased. Her eyes wandered over to the bodies on the beds. 

"Yeah!” Jack cleared away the hologram, threw his arms up in exasperation, caught in his lie. “It was a con, I wanted to sell it to you then destroy it before you found out it was junk."

"But you said it was a warship," Rose protested.

"They have ambulances in wars," he walked away, annoyed. "It was a con, I'm conning you, that's what I am, a conman. I thought you were Time Agents but you're not, are you?"

"Just a couple more freelancers," Rose said with a frustrated look. She crossed her arms, staring at Jack with hurt. Sage frowned, wondering how close those two might’ve gotten when she and the Doctor were investigating. Rose must’ve been charmed by his flirtations, or something to trust the man. She shook her head, eyes back on the prone bodies.

"Ahh… should've known. The way you guys are blending in with the local colour, I mean, Flag Girl was bad enough, but U-Boat Captain? At least Queenie here wore the right coat."

Sage didn’t notice the incredulous stares as she tried to figure out what the hell was going to happen next. This whole thing started with Jamie, and somehow it was connected to Jack’s little con. It had to be, otherwise they wouldn't have met. The ambulance he wanted to sell them. But what did an ambulance have to do with zombies? How could it possibly resurrect dead men?

Jack continued, "Anyway…. Whatever's happening here has got nothing to do with that ship."

"What is happening here, Doctor?" Rose tilted her head, trying to get to the bottom of the Doctor’s anger and agitation.

"Human DNA is being rewritten, by an _idiot_." The words were spat out, harsh and cruel. His anger was directed at Jack, red-hot daggers skewering into the new man’s presence. Jack cowered slightly at the intensity before his backbone snapped back, his own glare at the accusations slung at him.

Something clicked with the Doctor’s words. Human DNA…. Wartime made people desperate. Science was rushed as weapons were created. If it was a Chula ship or whatever, an _alien_ spaceship in war, who was to say that they didn’t have technology able to rewrite DNA or at least change it. Maybe something was on the ship that was meant to heal and when it crashed that something got out, met with an entirely new environment and tried to do its original job but couldn’t, the differences too jarring.

"What'd you mean?"

"I dunno, some kind of virus? It's converting human beings into that. But why? What's the point?"

Sage didn’t think there was a point. The bodies were chanting mummy. Unless the Chula ship wasn’t empty like Jack said and there were Chula looking for their mother or maybe a motherboard? But that didn’t feel right. It had to be connected to Jamie. But how? 

She was missing something really obvious here. Her gaze wandered over to Rose and Jack, the latter still frosty with anger and Rose trying to mitigate that. She tugged him over to the prone bodies, asking his opinions. 

"Hey, Rose, how'd you meet Jack?" Sage asked, mind working a mile a minute. If she remembered correctly, there would have to be rope burn lingering given how long she must’ve been hanging there before Jack came along. 

"Oh, um, there was this little boy atop a roof and a rope swung down, turns out it was a part of a barrage balloon and it took me with it. I was swinging there, then Jack rescued me," Rose answered while examining a body.

The body sat up suddenly and Rose jumped back, Jack yanking her shoulder to pull her away before the zombie ripoff could touch her. He had good instincts, and he immediately tried to push Rose behind him. 

Interesting. 

Sage pulled Rose away, Jack following, and Sage made sure to grab her wrist deliberately. "Careful, touch 'em and you'll turn into 'em."

Smooth, no sign of friction burns at all, when she looked down at Rose’s limp hand, turning it slightly to look at her palms. Sage frowned, letting go. Was that connected to the ambulance, some kind of cure or disease that could save all. An experiment gone wrong?

That little boy again…. It just had to be the same one she and the Doctor met, the one Nancy was so afraid of.

Jamie.

All the bodies immediately sat up and got off the bed. They began to enclose around the four, chanting. "Mummy. Mummy, mummy, mummy.”

"What's happening?" Rose cried, terror-stricken at the sight before them.

"I don't know," the Doctor said at a loss.

The chants began to get louder as the bodies closed in on the four, backing them up against a wall. Sage’s heart pounded in her chest, her hand flying wildly as she tried to find some sort of thing to hold. A hand came to grip hers, tight and secure, and Sage startled. She looked down, seeing the Doctor holding tightly onto her right hand. Her eyes flickered up to the Doctor, who had his eyes locked onto the hoards of gas mask zombies.

"Mummy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this changed.... _so_ much. I fucking hate POV and perspective, if it jumps and you can't follow that's on me, shoot me on sight. Guys, this used to be around 6,000 words, why are all my chapters so long??? I really like these changes though. Oh, well, I guess. All mistakes are mine and I am my own editor, so have a bit of mercy. Please leave a review below on what you liked or disliked and I will see _you_ in the next chapter!


	12. The Doctor Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kinda are like fireflies, huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever, stop writing chapters that are nearly 15k that take months to write challenge 2021.
> 
> Also, posting this on the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century, so ain't that neat.

Fear racketed Sage’s heart to a hundred beats per minute. The gas mask people surrounded them, dazed and deadly, and Sage was worried that they actually were going to change into them.

Until the Doctor stared at them firmly, "Go to your room," and said it as though addressing a disobedient child.

The other three watched in awe as the gas mask people _hesitated_.

"Go to your room!" he tried again, louder and sounding even more displeased. Sage shuddered, reminded of the times her parents had used that tone on her whenever she did something mildly displeasing.

The gas mask people cocked their head to the side. Rose and Jack exchanged looks and Sage mouthed, 'Holy shit.'

"I mean it, I am very, very angry with you. I am very, very cross! Go. To. Your. Room!" he practically bellowed. He pointed in no particular direction and they meekly turned away, going back into their beds. The Doctor sighed with relief, "I'm really glad that worked. Those would've been terrible last words," he grinned at them.

"Holy shit, that was bloody brilliant," Sage said. She let go of the Doctor’s hand, missing how he immediately tried to follow after her hand, fingers flexing before dropping like lead.

The Doctor smiled down at her, so pleased and eyes so blue. "Why, thank you," he said with a delighted expression.

The way that the zombies responded only cemented it in Sage’s mind. They were acting like children, children who responded to an authority figure or at least someone who sounded like one. Sage wasn’t sure the Doctor would count as an authority figure.

Regardless, it had something to do with Jamie. It all connected somehow. And it was because of Jack that it even connected in the first place.

The reminder of the conman made Sage’s blood boil, and she spun on her heel, giving Jack a sweet smile belied by her words, “I’m gonna punch you now.”

Jack looked at her weirdly before laughing uncomfortably like he wasn’t sure that she was serious. Sage grinned at him before balling her fist, taking a step back, and clocking him right in the face.

"Ow! Shit, what the hell?" he asked, dazed, stumbling back. He held a hand up to his nose. “I think you broke my nose.”

"Oh, suck it up, I told you that I was gonna punch you,” Sage ground out, flexing her fingers. It would’ve been worse if she hadn’t already warmed up earlier today, but the contact bruised her knuckles. Not so bad that there was bleeding, but still enough that she could feel it when she bent her fingers. “And I didn’t put enough force to break your nose.”

Her anger faded, and she ducked her head. Impulsive, that was too impulsive. She shouldn’t have done that. She should _not_ have done that. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, hugging herself to try and calm down.

"If it helps, it's not for the money. And it was a burnt-out med transport, it was empty." Jack defended himself, stretching his jaw and glaring darkly at Sage. He gingerly touched his lip, wincing in pain.

“You’re wrong,” Sage said, opening her eyes and ignoring the disapproval emanating from the Doctor. “It wasn’t empty, in fact, I’d wager that your space ambulance was the reason why we have zombies in the first place.”

“It _was_ empty!” Jack protested, a dark glare on his face.

"How was your con supposed to work?" the Doctor interceded before Sage could argue and press her point even more. Sage blew out a harsh breath, she might’ve actually broken Jack’s nose now that she looked at him closer. There was a deformity that wasn't there before and his lip was split, blood scabbing it over. She shook out her hands, wincing at the pain. Not now.

"Why're they all wearing gas masks?" Rose whispered to Sage.

"They're not, it's flesh and bone," Sage answered back with a whisper, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. “I think they were transformed into that.”

“Transformed?” Rose looked utterly fascinated despite the horrified question. She tilted her head, eyeing the things intently. Sage didn’t try to explain, unable to still, shrugging helplessly when Rose turned to her.

"Simple enough, really. Find some harmless piece of space-junk... let the nearest Time Agent track it back to Earth. Convince him it's valuable, name a price. When he's put 50% up front, oops! A German bomb falls on it, destroys it forever. He never gets to see what he's paid for. Never knows he's been had. I buy him a drink with his own money, and we discuss dumb luck. The perfect self-cleaning con," Jack said, settling into a satisfied position, arms crossed over his chest.

The Doctor scoffed, "Yeah, perfect."

"The London Blitz is great for self-cleaners, Pompeii's nice if you want to make a vacation of it though, but you've got to set your alarm for volcano day." Jack laughed at his own joke, but the Doctor just gave him a look.

His laughter died off, "Getting a hint of disapproval, here."

“No shit, Sherlock,” Sage grumbled. God, Jack irritated her. He was too confident. Too cocky. Only bad news spelled from overconfident white men. But, she gave him the side eye as she remembered how Jack had pulled Rose back from the zombie thing. There was something about him. Maybe not something different but just… something. Taking a deep breath and staring up at the ceiling, she prayed to whatever God was out there to give her patience.

The Doctor shot her a look and she subsided with a jerk of her head before he turned back to Jack. "Take a look around the room. This is what your 'harmless piece of space-junk' did."

"It was a burnt-out medical transporter," he protested, standing up. "It was empty."

“It wasn’t,” Sage repeated. “Well, empty of people maybe. But you must’ve overlooked something because this all wouldn’t have happened if it were truly empty. I may not be a Chthullu expert but I know that nothing is as empty as it appears.”

“It’s— it’s Chula,” Jack corrected weakly, looking very, very disturbed at Sage’s words. “Nothing was alive there, I stole it. Well, that’s a relative term. But I doubled and even tripled-check before I brought it here.”

“Well, whatever you did or did not do created those zombies,” Sage said, kicking at the ground. She tilted her head, “C’mon, you’re coming with me. Jack, not you, Doctor.” She added when the Doctor started to walk towards the door.

“Wh— What? Where are we going?” Jack jogged to reach Sage who had already started striding towards the exit.

“You’re gonna take me to that Chrollo ship.”

“It’s— it’s still Chula,” Jack sighed, jogging to try and catch up to her. She needed to categorize everything that was on that ship. They had to have an inventory log or something that would give her some headway into what the hell had gotten out.

Maybe it was some sort of contraption that was put onto the ambulance for safe passage? Ambulances should have safe passage, it would be against the Geneva codes to hit a healing vehicle. Or was that only for human wars? God, now she had to study intergalactic law. Oh, but human history already made her head spin.

The Doctor banged his hand against a wall, startling Jack and Sage into stop. He had followed after Sage and Jack with Rose trailing behind him. “Sage, what are you doing?”

“Divide and conquer,” Sage responded promptly. “Once we figure out the motive or at least method then we can figure out how to stop this and how to save the others.”

“And you want to go with him?” the Doctor gave Jack a nasty glare to which both Sage and Jack rolled their eyes. “We just met him, Sage, do you trust him that much?”

“I trust him enough to lead me to the ship that he crash landed and not to kill me when he literally has a black eye _from_ me right now,” Sage retorted, crossing her arms. She stared defiantly at the Doctor who glowered just as harshly back.

“Are they really fighting? Now?” Jack whispered to Rose, and Sage rolled her eyes.

“We’re having a difference of opinion,” Sage said promptly, and the Doctor snorted, still not happy but relenting for now. “Listen, Doctor, you can just as easily find whatever you need with Rose and without me than with me. Four people is too many people to keep track of, and we need to end this thing quickly. I don’t want any more zombie creatures, do you?”

“This isn’t a good plan, Sage,” the Doctor warned, but he looked like he was actually considering it, albeit very, very reluctantly.

“And yours is?” Sage shot back, “My plans so far have had a hundred percent success rate.”

“You’ve been on two trips.”

“And yet I’ve been in many death defying situations, and I have come out completely unscathed.”

“So have I,” the Doctor challenged.

Sage raked her eyes up and down the Doctor’s body before looking at the Doctor straight in the eyes with raised brows. She may not know what regeneration he was on, but she definitely knew that he did _not_ come out of all adventures completely unscathed.

The Doctor, to her amusement, flushed before jerking his head in a begrudging nod. He turned on his heel, grabbing Rose’s hand, "We're going upstairs."

“Wait, what? What about Sage?” Rose asked as the two left and got farther and farther away.

“What the hell was that about?” Jack stared at the Doctor and Rose’s retreating backs with wide-eyed confusion.

“Divide and conquer, now take me to this fucking ship.”

* * *

"I even programmed the flight computer so it wouldn't land on anything living, I harmed no one! I don't know what's happening here, but believe me, I had nothing to do with it,” Jack was saying, trying to plead his case.

“Okay, that’s great and all,” Sage ground out, a headache forming at the back of her head. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that something’s wrong here— and I’m not talking about the fact that it’s World War Two, my least favourite war— I’m talking about the fact that there are kind of sentient zombies and the only common denominator is your ship.”

“It’s not my ship, and how is that the common denominator?” Jack was walking briskly besides her, hackles raised and still really, really confused.

“It just— _is_ , okay?” Sage threw her hands up in the air, exasperated and unable to explain better. “I don’t know how to explain it! It’s just— your ship was the only new thing that was added into this whole— debacle.”

“That’s a lot to bet on,” Jack accused. “Do you actually have a clue about what you’re looking for?”

“An inventory log for starters,” Sage said, giving Jack an unimpressed look when he held the doors open for her. Still, she exited the hospital, the cold brisk air chilling her cheeks and flushing them darker. “That way we can make sure that nothing broke or is missing. Did you see an inventory log?”

“It’s a Chula ship,” Jack said, as if that explained everything.

“And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

“They— everything is digitized,” Jack explained, a hand waving in the air. “Nothing’s on paper and all the equipment is standard Chula, it’s an ambulance. Not much battle to see with bandages and tape.”

“That still means there should be a log installed in the ship,” Sage said. She stopped. Jack was being much more helpful than he intended, and he seemed too guilty and apologetic to have actually done this on purpose. Either that or he was so confident in not being caught that he was being compliant, but her gut was telling her the second option was wrong.

A pit had formed in the bottom of her stomach, her own guilt settling in like a lead rock trying to drown her in the open sea. She curled her fingers, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets in a vain attempt to ward off the feeling of burning in her cheeks.

Jack halted with her, giving her a confused look. “What are you doing? The ship’s a little bit over a mile away. I thought you wanted to see the thing.”

“No, yeah, I do, but—” she shook her head, steeling herself. “I’m— uh— sorry for punching you, even if I think you did deserve it. You didn’t deserve my anger. This whole mess wasn’t started by you. Purposefully, at least. Probably.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Jack exclaimed, not looking bothered at the belated addition. “Listen, I have no idea what happened to those people. I didn’t even know this was happening! I just wanted to make a pitch, get some money and kip off back to the 51st century.”

“51st century? Is that when you’re from?” Sage had to admit, her curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t everyday that she met a time traveling conman. The Doctor didn’t count. He was an alien. Jack for all his flirting seemed very much human.

“Yup, right off the Boe Peninsula. And you? Well, you and blondie? You both have the same accent.”

“Um, no we don’t,” Sage said, visibly confused.

“Time accent or whatever,” Jack explained lazily.

“That— that doesn’t help me, but— you know what? No, I’m not gonna ask. We’re from the 21st century.”

Jack winced, “Oof, sorry about that. That’s rough.”

“Wait, what? Why is it rough?”

Giving her a curious if not cautious look, Jack asked, “Just _when_ from the 21st century are you and blondie from? Just asking.”

“2005,” Sage replied just as cautious, “why? Does something happen?” Jack was making her desperately curious about how the rest of the century continued and progressed when previously she had refused to think about it. Not wanting to spoil her future.

“Let’s just say that when I was in school, the 21st century had a whole different book along with my regular history book.”

“What the fuck,” Sage mouthed to herself, still unable to completely comprehend the fact that Jack was thirty centuries in the future from her and that he had to learn about her present, which would be his past. “That’s so freaky, don’t tell me any more,” she added when Jack looked like he was going to say something else.

“Time travel, can never get your head around it sometimes,” Jack said sympathetically, nodding his head with a mock pout.

Sage laughed, startled, and punched Jack’s shoulder, “Ha! Don’t get me started.” She did not want to think about the fact that she had technically met his future self or that he was a giant head. In fact, she just wouldn’t think about that fact, her head already hurting.

“Ow,” Jack whined, rubbing his shoulder in fake pain. “You’re just abusing me now, Queenie. What’s with all the hitting?”

“Oh, suck it up, you big wuss,” Sage teased. “How are you a captain if you can’t take a few punches?”

“You try getting punched twice in an hour,” Jack muttered.

“Clearly, you haven’t met my personal trainer,” Sage quipped. “It’s how I got so good at punching people. Especially cocky bastards who think they can con me and my friends.”

“Alright, alright,” Jack raised his hands up in surrender, “I’ll be sure not to do that again.”

Sage smiled awkwardly at that, taking Jack’s not really apology for an apology. She bumped shoulders with him, delighting in Jack’s little smile back. For as much as he was a cocky bastard, Jack didn’t seem like a bad guy.

She cleared her throat before she was interrupted by a ringing phone. The both of them jumped a bit, and Sage looked at Jack with a question but he shook his head. “I think your phone is ringing,” Jack said dryly.

“But I didn’t bring my phone…” Sage trailed off, patting herself down and finding a vibrating and loudly ringing phone. “What the fuck? Who put this in here? I left this in my— the TARDIS, of _course_.”

“Uhh, the what? Are you going to answer that or not?” Jack questioned.

“Shit, I forgot you were here,” Sage scrubbed a hand over her face, momentarily forgetting that she wasn’t wearing her glasses but instead contacts. Her eyes watered as she fucked up the lenses, and she blinked rapidly to try and clear her vision, clicking to answer on speakerphone at the same time. “Yellow?”

“Sage?” the Doctor’s voice came across tinny over the receiver. “Are you still there with the Captain?”

“Right here, doc,” Jack drawled, and the Doctor’s scowl was especially loud in the dead of the night. Jack looked at Sage with waggling eyebrows and she had to stifle her giggles. There was something easy about Jack and not just in the way that he was an easy lay. More like he was easy to be around and easy to talk to, even if he was somewhat irritating. Sage could feel herself reluctantly relaxing just by being around him, which only made her tense even more because nothing good came out of something easy.

“How’d you get my number?” Sage asked.

“You’re on my speedial,” he said as if that explained anything. Sage didn’t remember ever giving him her number, but she couldn’t ask further when he continued, “listen to this.” He hit a button and a start up sound echoed across the receiver.

 _‘Do you know where you are?’_ Dr Constantine’s voice was even tinnier over the line, reduced to a recording.

_‘Where’s my mummy? I want my mummy.’_

“I know that voice,” Rose said over the receiver.

“I do, too,” Sage agreed, furrowing her brows. “It sounds like that one boy we met, Doctor. He— are there any patient notes in there? Constantine implied it was Jamie.”

The ruffling of paper was quiet against the recording, _‘Mummy? Mummy! Are you my mummy?’_

"Always 'are you my mummy' like he doesn't know. Why doesn't he know?" Rose asked.

"Maybe no one told him," Sage said, absently walking back to the hospital, Jack following after her.

“Wait, you met that boy?” Jack asked, a hand on her shoulder to halt her. Sage startled out of her musings a bit, looking over her shoulder to Jack.

“Oh, sure, we were chased by him for a bit and I think he’s the reason why Rose was dangling off a rope in the middle of the Blitz.”

“I— well that explains why she was there in the first place,” Jack said, a befuddled and somewhat concerned look on his face. “What does that boy have to do with this anyway?”

“Everything,” Sage muttered, “I just can’t figure out why. Doctor, patient notes?” she directed the question back to the phone.

“There’s nothing, only children’s drawings and various words of Mummy cartoonishly written in crayon. Whatever patient notes there had been, they’ve been purged from the room.”

Sage’s brow creased even further and her footsteps quickened. That couldn’t be good. “What’s around the room? Any clues?”

“Toys, a separate container with a bed, the recorder,” the Doctor said, trailing off. “Do you hear that? Can you sense that?”

“Doctor, me and Jack are on the phone,” Sage said drily. The reels of the tape flapped, echoing in the background of the call. It felt oddly damning in the cold night chill, and there was something about it that bothered her. The Doctor only continued talking, and Sage had a headache trying to listen to the recording and the Doctor at the same time.

"Coming out of the walls, can you feel it?” A pause as the Doctor presumably looked at Rose in question. “Funny little human brains, how do you get around in those things?"

"Don't be rude!" Sage immediately retorted to the Doctor’s chagrin. Rose and Jack were talking to each other as she and Jack started to go back to the hospital. She was still hung up about the fact that there were toys in the room. Why would there be toys in a room if not for a child? A child’s room….

“Shit,” Sage cursed. She picked up her pace, running back to the doors of the hospital, Jack yelling at her to slow down. “Doctor, get out of there!”

“What? Why?”

“You— you set him— Jamie— to his room. _That’s_ his room, get out!”

“I’m here now!” Jamie’s bright voice piped up and the call cut out. Sage cursed vehemently, shoving the phone in her pocket and picking up her pace.

“That was the kid?” Jack panted out beside her, trying to keep up. “We’re running _towards_ the kid who turned people into zombies?”

“I’m not leaving behind the Doctor and Rose, jackass. Oh shit, so many things, uhhhh— What did you do to Rose's hands?" She veered back to the left, and she noticed with amusement how Jack's train of thought crashed into hers as they ran towards the hospital.

"What?" he asked, disgruntled and taken aback at the change in subject.

The question had been bugging her for a while and she couldn't find a good segue into asking. Might as well ask now and get all the information. "Rose's hands, she said you found her hanging off a rope like 50 feet in the sky. Hanging that long, that far up, she would've gotten some severe rope burns, but when I saw her hands they were healthy, healed and perfectly fine. What'd you give her?"

"Nanogenes, they're little robots that heal physical flaws."

“Shit, really?” she filed that thought away for now, the word chomping at the bit for her to try and figure out. Sage huffed as the doors to the hospital came into view. She huffed out a laugh, moving to push open the doors only to be blocked. “What the fuck?” She tried again, pushing with all her might. “They’re not opening.”

“Here, let me try,” Jack said. He tried to budge the doors with his shoulders, slamming it with his side. He grunted when the door practically threw him back, rubbing his shoulder. “What the—?"

"So the kid is psychic now?" Sage grumbled, looking for a way in or something to break open the doors.

"That's not how psychics work—"

"Not the time," she interrupted rudely, "c'mon help me find a way to open these doors."

"Ah, I think I got something that'll help, Queenie." Jack said it with a smirk, and Sage looked back at him where he pulled out a sort of gun, wielding it expertly.

"Is that a gun?"

"Sonic blaster, got it from the weapons factory at Villengard. 51st century, obviously." He aimed it squarely at the doors, and the doors simply disintegrated, a rectangular square hole left in its place.

"Huh, neat," Sage said, already climbing through, "so you are handy once in a while."

"Not the only way I'm handy," Jack gave her a lewd grin which she easily ignored. She started running, following her gut feeling. Rose and the Doctor were in danger, there was no time for innuendo.

"Do you know where you're going?" Jack asked, running by her side.

"Just following instinct."

"Instinct? How's that going to—?"

The two turned left, and Sage yelped as she was pulled harshly around a corner by her shoulder. She looked up in surprise at the Doctor who warned her to stay silent with a finger to his lips. The Doctor crowded her into the wall, peering over her around the corner.

"Huh, guess your instinct isn't so bad after all," Jack said, making a face when the Doctor hushed him. The Doctor didn't bother with a reply, confidently stepped out of hiding.

"Fancy meeting the two of you here," Rose teased with a smirk, following.

"Don't you know there's a sale on gas masks that you just can't miss?" Sage returned with her own sardonic little smile.

Rose stuck her tongue out cheerfully at Sage who mimed biting it off with a snap of her teeth.

"Reunion over," the Doctor interrupted urgently, "gas mask zombies on their way to infect us right _now_!" His last word stretched out as doors burst open and a hoard of the infected started stumbling out. He was the first to run with Sage, Rose, and Jack quickly following after.

A turn right only led them into a dead end and the Doctor cursed, kicking the wall in frustration. He and Jack hurried to blockade the two women behind them in a protective barrier, and Jack pulled out his blaster again.

"No time like the present," Jack joked, aiming at the wall and having it disappear. "Hurry up!"

Rose went through with Sage quickly diving in following the Doctor and Jack holding up the back. Jack fiddled with the controls before shooting at the wall again, "Digital rewind," he said smugly. The walls rebuilt themselves, effectively blocking them from Jamie.

A sigh of relief spread throughout the group but peace only lasted for a moment.

Jamie thumped heavily on the wall and a large crack appeared, splitting nearly easily from the plaster and concrete. The four watched in horror as the wall started to split apart like a pistachio.

"What the hell?" Sage asked, incredulously. "He's, like, five. How'd he get super strength?"

"Not now! Come on!" the Doctor said, running toward a flight of stairs.

They rushed down and entered a corridor just as doors burst open and more gas mask zombies flooded out, calling, "Mummy."

The group backtracked and found themselves back at the start, with the cracked wall. The cracks in the wall were getting larger and larger with each thump and dust fell from it, fogging up the room. More gas mask zombies were surrounding them and they were soon barricaded in, the Doctor and Jack in front of the two women.

"It's keeping us here so it can get to us," the Doctor said, pacing. He was frazzled, trying to think of routes of escape. Sage watched in concern as his anger grew but with excitement following, his hearts had to be pumping in anticipation, mind running a mile a minute to think of escape strategies.

"It's controlling them?" Jack asked.

"It _is_ them, it's every living thing in the building."

"Okay. This can function as a sonic blaster, a sonic cannon, and a triple-enfolded sonic disruptor. Doc, what you got?"

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, wincing a bit as he looked down at it. Sage stifled a giggle as he said, "I've got, oh— never mind."

Jack pointed his gun all around them, vigilant against the gas mask zombies, "What? What've you got?"

"It's sonic," the Doctor said simply, short and curt.

"Sonic? Sonic what? Cannon? Disruptor?" The gas mask zombies were getting stubbornly closer. And anxiety blasted through Sage like a rocket, biting her lip harshly to stop herself from whimpering in fear.

"It's sonic, leave it at that," the Doctor replied harshly.

Jack threw the other man a disgruntled and annoyed glare, fixing his hold on the gun. If Sage were at all crude, she'd compare this to a dick measuring contest. But, as they were continuing to get surrounded by infectious zombies, she was starting to get fed up at the animosity between the two.

"You know normally, I'd love to take this chance to tease you," Sage interrupted as she eyed the ground then made eye contact with Rose, trying to telepathically convey her intentions. "But I'd really like to live through this first. Rose!"

Rose grabbed Jack's wrist and pointed the blaster toward the floor, forcing Jack to pull the trigger, "Going down!"

The child just managed to punch through the wall and Sage got a glimpse of him as she fell with the others, hitting her left side hard. She fell to the floor with a groan, "There're three of you here and, of course, I didn't get to fall on any of you."

Jack hurriedly switched the digital rewind on and remade the ceiling. All four of them sighed in relief when nothing seemed to follow.

"Could've used a warning," the Doctor groaned.

"Ugh, the gratitude," Rose complained good naturedly. She got up with a jump in her step, brushing off dirt and grime easily. She wandered over to Sage's side, tilting her head down in concern.

"She did warn you," Sage pointed out, still on the ground as the others got their bearings together. Pangs and ache shot through her side, aggravating her already bruised knuckles. She rolled her shoulder, flexing her hand, "Sorry, your little pissing contest blinded you."

"Bit more of a warning than just going down, then," the Doctor amended. "Are you just gonna lay there the rest of the time?"

The patients started to get up out of the bed with a groan. Sage shot up, pulling herself up with Rose's help. "Nope!"

They rushed to the door, but it was locked. Jack tried to blast it open, but it only whirred sadly, a pitiful small burst of nothing. "Dammit!" He stepped back, banging the gun. The Doctor rolled his eyes and used his sonic. The door clicked open with ease, the group quickly rushing out.

Jack whacked the blaster angrily, "It's the special features, they really drain the battery."

"The battery?!" Rose shrieked.

"That thing runs on a battery,” Sage shook her head, mock disappointedly, “you really got the low end of the deal there, Cap." Sage pulled Rose faster down the hall with a slight wince, barking out a laugh at the face Jack made.

They dashed through and went into a storeroom. The Doctor slammed the door behind them, locking it with his sonic.

Sage immediately went around, trying to look for vantage points to escape, only listening with one ear to the Doctor and Jack bickering. The room was basically a large supply closet, refitted to have a few personal effects. It was probably an empty store room repurposed so that some workers could have a quick smoke or a nap with the chair.

"What is that?" Jack asked, slightly breathless.

"Sonic screwdriver."

"Seriously? A screwdriver? Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks, 'ooh let's make it sonic'?" Jack asked snidely.

"What, never been bored?" the Doctor defended.

Sage shook her head at the continued bickering amongst the men, climbing up to peer out the window and wincing at the height, "That's a no go," she muttered.

"Never mind the sonic," the Doctor quickly tried to avert the conversation, "assets, assets. What've we got?"

"Well, I've got a blaster that won't blast and at a pinch you could put up some shelves," Jack said with a slight sneer.

"Window's a no go either, barred, sheer drop of seven stories," Sage informed, dropping down to the ground with a silent thud.

"And no other exits," Rose said, looking around and seeing the one door.

Jack settled comfortably into a chair, "Well, the assets conversation went in a flash, didn't it?"

"Where'd you pick this one up?" the Doctor said with an unimpressed look to Rose, brow raising and arms crossed, chin held up haughtily. If Sage knew any better, she would say that the Doctor was jealous over the attention that Jack was getting. She huffed out a small laugh through her nose, amusement striking her like a lightning bolt.

"Doctor," Rose warned. The warning in her eyes made the brown glow that much brighter, warm and hot. Sage faded into the background, leaning back against the concrete wall. The tension between the three in front of her was palpable, practically buzzing in the air. She shivered, melting into the shadows even more.

"She was hanging from a barrage balloon, I had an invisible spaceship. I never stood a chance," Jack said with a grin.

Rose shifted uncomfortably, a harsh glare on her face. Sage sighed, almost inaudible, but she caught the wince of guilt Jack tried to hide, his eyes cutting to hers for a flicker of a second before confidence puffed up his chest.

He settled back into the chair with a cutting confidence and a cool smirk on his face. Sage could feel a headache work her way up, and she sighed again, resting her head in her hands and shutting off her vision.

"Okay, one, we want to get out of here," the Doctor started. "Two, we can't get out of here. Have I missed anything?"

"Yeah, Jack's disappeared," Rose said dryly, almost unsurprised.

"Oh, god, this isn't helping my head," Sage mumbled, screwing her eyes shut even tighter.

"Okay, so he's vanished into thin air. Why is it always the great looking ones who do that?" Rose said wistfully.

The Doctor gave her a look, "I'm making an effort not to be insulted here."

"Just an effort?" Sage asked, opening her eyes and looking up, a quirk of a brow. "Damn, we gotta try harder then, Rosie."

The Doctor was at a loss at what to say, flushed and almost pleased at the teasing sarcasm, his wit failing him. Luckily he was saved by the radio turning on.

"Rose? Queenie? Doctor? Can you hear me?" his voice came through slightly tinny.

Sage, being the closest, picked it up. She turned it around, confused when she saw the ripped out wires. She showed it to the Doctor and Rose who looked equally confused

"I'm on my ship, used the emergency teleport. Sorry I couldn't take you." he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's security-keyed to my molecular structure. I'm working on it, hang in there," Jack explained, and Sage heard him fiddling with controls.

"How're you speaking to us?" The Doctor asked.

"Om-com," and Sage could hear the smugness in his voice. "I can speak through anything with a speaker grill."

"Now there's a coincidence," the Doctor said, giving Rose another little accusatory look. The tension was killing Sage, there was just too much jealousy in the air. The room was charged with it as Rose shot him back another glare.

"What is?" Jack asked.

"The child can Om-com too."

"It can?" Rose questioned.

The Doctor nodded, "Anything with a speaker grill. Even the TARDIS phone."

"What, you mean it can phone us?"

"And I can hear you," the child interrupted with a singing voice. Sage yelped quietly, dropping the radio. "Coming to find you. I'm coming to _fiiiind_ you."

"Doctor, can you hear that?" Jack asked, voice tight with panic. There was an underlying tone of guilt there that he couldn’t manage to hide, and Sage felt a stab of vindication pierce her chest. That’ll show him, swanning off without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Loud and clear."

"I'll block it, least I can do." That was most certainly _not_ the least he could do, but there was something in those words. That tone, that made Sage pause and reconsider her stance on punching him again. She looked up a bit, noticing how the Doctor and Rose gravitated just that bit closer, Rose chancing small peeks every other second.

"Coming to find you, mummy!"

"Remember this, Rose?" Glenn Miller's ‘Moonlight Serenade’ clicked on and its soft tune filled the room.

Sage and the Doctor simultaneously turned to look at Rose, Sage teasing and the Doctor questioningly. There was something embarrassing there. Sage’s sisterly senses were tingling.

"It's sorta… our song," she explained uncomfortably.

She was right. Sage was going to absolutely mock the fuck out of Rose after this. "Your song, huh?" Sage asked innocently. The Doctor gave both of them a stink eye glare, Sage moreso, and it made her grin wider. Oh, jealousy, how green your eyes are.

"Oh, don't you start," Rose scolded. Sage grinned and nudged her shoulder.

They watched as the Doctor rolled his eyes fondly before moving to a wall. He took out his sonic again and started scanning. Sage and Rose exchanged looks, long suffering and tired.

"What're you doing?" Rose asked, the first to bite the bullet.

"Trying to set up a resonation pattern in the concrete. Loosen the bars," he explained.

"You don't think he's coming back?" Sage asked. She watched with curiosity how the Doctor’s shoulder tense before relaxing minutely, barely there and easily missable if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. Did the Doctor feel threatened by Jack? That was rather laughable, and a giggle escaped through a huff of a breath.

Men.

"Wouldn't bet my life," the Doctor said easily.

"Why don't you trust him?" Rose asked.

"I've got a bunch of reasons," Sage muttered. But she couldn’t quite remember them when she could only recall the guilty looks on his face every time he thought no one else was looking. He was hiding something, but she didn’t think it had to do with this.

Has he met her? In his past? And he was wondering what was up with her? Or was the giant head in his _past_ and not his future? Oh, but that made her head hurt even more.

Anger, she could work with that. He conned her, her and her friends. He — unknowingly, but still— brought upon the zombie apocalypse, he was a flirt and refused or couldn’t help continue to flirt with her even when she said no.

Actually, he was a bit tamer after she said no, restricting himself to lewd puns rather than lascivious ogling. Ugh, those puppy eyes. Fuck, she’d already forgiven him. God, she was a pushover.

"Why do you?" the Doctor retorted with a glance at Sage. Sage wandered away, giving them some semblance of privacy.

"Saved my life. Bloke wise, that's right up there with flossing."

Rose softened, "I trust him 'cause he's like you, 'cept with dating and dancing."

The Doctor shot her an amused look, "You think that I don't dance?"

"What?" Rose asked, surprised.

"You just assume that I don't dance," he smirked.

"Well, do you?" Her tone turned slightly husky, a smirk on her face.

"Nine hundred years, I've learned a thing or two," he replied coolly, a challenge in his eyes that made Rose’s own brighten.

"Oh god," Sage groaned quietly, dropping her head into her hands, "Kill me now. I knew I shouldn't've agreed to come." Sage hissed slightly at the pain and jerked her hand away, rubbing at the sores. She tuned out the others and looked at the bruises. Her knuckles were turning a nasty purple and her palm was still slightly red.

"Something interesting about your hands?" a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Sage yelped and stumbled wildly, clipping her knuckles again on some hard surface. She hissed in pain, cradling her hand close to her chest. She closed her eyes, hunching in tight on herself. Her right hand curled over her left, hiding the bruises from sight with a tender hold.

"Shit! Sorry about that, Queenie." Jack apologized, blue eyes wide with sorrow and contrition. Yeah, she _was_ a pushover.

"It's fine. Don’t fucking do that again," she warned and he grinned at her boyishly. Her eyes darted to his face, healed and very much without a bruise. So he used his high tech to heal it. There was something here. Something was telling her that everything was connected somehow. It _had_ to connect with Jamie and Nancy.

"It's probably because you didn't wrap it," Jack said, disapproving.

"Might be," she laughed awkwardly. "No time for first aid though, currently in the middle of running for our lives, remember?" Sage glanced around, taking in the spaceship, "By the way, how'd you teleport me on? I thought you left."

Jack makes a soft, wounded noise, "I wouldn't leave so soon, I'm not that kind of guy, Queenie."

Sage tried for a sheepish grin, right hand curling and uncurling, "I didn't mean it like that, sorry. Well, I did. But— I knew you wouldn’t leave, _leave_. Never mind— people, aren't really my strong suit."

Jack clicked his tongue, "Didn't seem that way earlier, not with your left hook."

Sage looked around, mesmerized at the sleek and modern looks of the ship, "I get protective of friends. And you seemed like a wham, bam, thank you ma'am kinda guy." This ship was what she imagined the future to be, what it held in store. Her head hurt, the technology cementing the fact that she was really here, involved in another death defying scenario and in the past. “No offense,” she added belatedly.

"None taken," Jack said, not sounding that offended. “It’s gotten me into trouble a bit, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyes, and Sage rolled hers, but she couldn’t suppress the smile burgeoning at the corner of her lips.

“So this is a Chula ship,” Sage said, casting her eyes around the ship again. It was a sleek, blue and black model with buttons and levers at the controls all the way at the end of the ship with a small recreation center where she stood now. It felt claustrophobic though, the ceiling “Bit small though, huh?”

“It’s not the ambulance that I said I’d show you, but we make do. The Chula are barely six feet tall on average so their models rarely get any taller than seven and there’s no need to make a ship bigger than it should.”

“These Chalupas—”

“Oh, come on! You got it right earlier!”

“—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sage said with a straight face much to Jack’s consternation and scowl, “do they look human?”

“They _feel_ human, especially—”

“Don’t finish that,” Sage interrupted. “Have they met humans at all? When you stole these ships, I mean.”

“I’d say biblically.”

“Captain,” Sage scrubbed a hand down her face. “Much as I enjoy these euphemisms, I’m trying to save the world here.”

Jack didn’t retort, the silence telling, and Sage dropped her hand, surprised. “Captain, you alright? If I was too harsh—”

“What happened to your hand?” he asked, abrupt.

Sage blinked, the change in topic quick. She looked down at her hand, which Jack was staring very intently at as if it had insulted him quite severely. Now that she looked at it, it looked quite bruised. Purple and dark, angry with blood.

“Ask your face,” Sage said, leaving out the fact that she also fell on it.

“You should’ve said something,” his words came out tight and hurt.

“When? When you and the Doctor were having your little dick measuring contest? When Jamie was breaking through walls like it was paper? Tell me, o Captain my Captain, when would’ve been a good time to bring this up?”

“When we were in that closet, maybe I would’ve gotten you here faster!” Jack threw his hands up in the air, “Or at least not let you think I abandoned you guys. This ship _is_ capable of first aid, Sage. All Chula ships are equipped with it.”

“They’re just bruised knuckles, Jack,” Sage tried to diffuse the tension, not liking how much focus he was spending on her when they should be figuring out what was wrong with Jamie. “After this is over, I can just wrap them.”

“Or we can just heal them now. With nanogenes,” Jack clicked his fingers, and soft yellow lights swarmed out to swirl around his hand. It mesmerized her, and she reached out unthinkingly to touch them with her left hand.

They immediately swarmed her fingers, focusing on her knuckles. “Oh! That tickles.” She flexed her fingers. It felt like feathers tickling her skin, worming under her skin and heating it up. They flew off quickly, and Sage’s eyes widened when she saw smooth, unblemished skin. “They really do heal.”

“‘Course they do,” Jack said, tucking them away with a clear point of his finger, “you think I was just gonna fuck you over like that. I mean if you want me to—”

“Don’t make me bruise my knuckles again,” Sage cut in, and Jack grinned, tilting his head in acquiescence. “So the nanogenes, they heal anything? Can they bring someone back from the dead?”

“No, of course not,” Jack shook his head then paused. “Well….”

Sage perked up, an idea percolating in her mind. She just needed confirmation. “Well?”

“Well, maybe not after days of being dead, but there have been reports of nanogenes being used bringing people back after the brink of death but only minutes before.”

“How do they work? Do they heal everything?”

“Generally, yeah,” Jack nodded his head. He clicked his fingers and the nanogenes flew out to surround his hands again. “They have a model of the average body and use that as a map to how to fix people.”

Sage stared at the soft fireflies intently, “Does that mean people can use them to be immortal?”

“Uh,” Jack snapped his fingers and the nanogenes swooped back into hiding, “we don’t talk about that period of Chulan history.”

“Wait, what? No, tell me. I love history. What happened? Did businessmen get greedy and try to monopolize the technology, leaving the common people in the dust and killing the general population as they aged and aged but still grew ever younger with the help of technology?”

“Wow— you’re— um— imaginative, aren’t you?” Jack chuckled nervously. Sage only stared him down harder, and he relented. “Yeah, basically, nanogenes were dismantled after the war and never used again for fear of another great big war.”

“Fucking capitalists.”

Jack barked out a laugh, “You know it, honey!”

“But the Chula look nothing like humans, do they? Human beings are already so complex, with DNA and genetics and everything already. I doubt the nanogenes just automatically know every nervous system in the universe.”

“They don’t. That’s why I programmed these after my own body.” He puffed out his chest with pride, “I gave them a map and they took it from there. The pinnacle of human health.”

Sage snorted, “I bet.” Something clicked. “Only these specific nanogenes would know about human biology, right? They don’t have like a motherboard or something that they report back to and spread information that way?”

“No, each nanogenes are uniquely their own.”

“If they happened upon a new species, what would they do?”

“Update their index, I suppose,” Jack shrugged. “They’re programmed to heal, that’s their job. If they find a new species, they’d be obligated to try and help that one as well.”

It clicked. Sage bit her bottom lip, her stomach feeling like lead had fallen in it. “Shouldn't you be teleporting the others now?"

"Oh!" Jack looked startled. "You're right, here let me just—" he turned around and fiddled with the controls.

The other two appeared quietly and in startlingly close proximity, almost swaying though there was no music to sway along to.

Jack looked confused, and Sage blanched, not wanting to see two friends making out. He looked between the other two and then at Sage, confusion palpable. Sage just shook her head. He sidled up next to her, putting his arm over her shoulder, "I thought you and the Doc were—"

"Me and him? Really?" she raised a brow with a dry smile and a lighthearted scoff. "I'm pretty sure Rose called dibs."

He snaked his hand down and around her waist, giving her a flirtatious wink, "Well, I've got dibs on you."

Sage jabbed him hard in the side, and he doubled over and laughed. "Just interrupt them!" she hissed.

Jack rolled his eyes, moving his arm around her shoulders instead and did as requested, "Actually I quit. Nobody takes my frock."

The other two jumped in surprise, taking in their new surroundings. The Doctor's eyes narrowed in on Jack's arm around Sage and Jack tightened his grip in response.

Sage didn't notice, giving Rose a teasing grin instead, "I love how caught up you two were in your flirting. Wait, sorry, I meant to say dancing."

Rose turned bright red, ducking her head to hide behind her hair, but she looked all too pleased with herself.

The Doctor stuttered, eyes darting back and forth between Jack and Sage, position altogether too comfortable than he remembered "That wasn't— we weren't— we were only talking about dancing!"

Jack smirked, "Didn't seem like talking."

"Didn't seem like dancing," Rose said, shooting the Doctor a look.

Sage snorted, “And we’re not saving the world right now. Seems like something we should do, right?”

"Fine, fine, I'm taking us to the crash site. I’m taking us to the crash site, your highness,” Jack relented, untangling himself from around her.

“Uh, it’d be your _majesty_ because I am a queen, not a princess. Get your titles, right, Captain.”

Jack rolled his eyes, giving her a mocking bow, and went back to the controls. The Doctor came up to Sage as Rose went to Jack’s side, "Since when were you so chummy with Jack?"

"Since he teleported me onto his ship and we settled our differences," she held back the bit about him healing her hand. She didn't think the Doctor would appreciate that when he was already so disapproving.

"Right, need I remind you that he's a con man?" he said, condescendingly.

"We've all got our quirks."

"Quirks? Sage, he's a thief!"

"Oh, don't be a hypocrite!" she said, raising her voice with a roll of her eyes. Sage took a deep breath before calmly saying, "You stole the TARDIS too. Don't undermine that. Why're you so against him? He’s been accommodating and helpful, mind you."

"Why aren't you?"

"No, you aren't doing that deflection with another question thing. Answer me," she demanded.

She was met with silence and she scoffed, "Fine don't, I don't really care right now. Answer me when you want, but we gotta go. Jack landed a minute ago." Sage turned, regretting her harsh tone. But the patronizing and condescending tone aggravated her to no end.

Jack may be a con man, but there was something to him. Something else that made her want to trust him. And she wasn’t kidding, Jack had been a huge help to her earlier, she figured out what had happened. How to solve it was another matter.

The Doctor kept talking and insinuating in every single conversation that he knew best and he knew what to do, like she was five and didn't know the difference between a fork and a spoon. And she had had enough of that in her lifetime. She sighed, then held out her hand, "C'mon, they're leaving us behind."

He looked at her hand with a raised brow, a scoff and scowl on his lips. She sighed again and left with a huff. Sage walked out of the ship with grace, forcing the Doctor to either stand there or follow after her.

He chose to follow.

The two caught up to Rose and Jack by a rail station near the bomb site.

"There you two are!" Jack exclaimed. "I was just showing Rose, there's the bomb," he pointed. It was surrounded by soldiers on duty. "They've got Algy on duty, must be important," he mused.

"You distracting him, Jack?" Sage asked with a sigh and knowing look.

Jack smirked deviously and sauntered off in answer.

"Wait, what?" Rose asked, confused by the turn of events.

"Relax, he's a 51st century guy. He's just a bit more flexible when it comes to dancing." the Doctor said, his mood better than before but only moderately. He was amused by Rose’s befuddled look, head tilted fondly.

"How flexible?" Rose asked, curious.

"As flexible as a human pretzel," Sage grinned.

"What, that's what we do when we get out there? That's our mission? We seek new life and— and—" Rose sputtered for a response.

"Dance," the Doctor's mood returned and his grin was a smidge from blinding.

They watched as Jack jumped into the bomb site and conversed with Algy. Sage watched with amusement until Algy's expression became pinched. His chest concaved slightly and his back arched. "Something's wrong," Sage said quickly.

"What? How can you tell?" The Doctor asked.

Sage made a noise of impatience, "Jack's back tensed, he stepped back and Algy's face was in pain. “Something's wrong," she repeated. There was a small cry of pain and Sage and the others spun to see Algy drop to the floor in pain. They watched in horror as Algy's face transformed into a gas mask. Jack was stock still in horror.

"Stay back!" the Doctor cried to the soldiers running toward them.

"You men," Jack ordered, recovering. "Stay away!"

The others rushed over to Jack and Rose hovered over Algy's lifeless body. Sage kept her distance, feeling gut punched and trying hard not to puke. She needed to tell the Doctor, and she needed to tell him _now._

"The effect's becoming air-borne," the Doctor said worriedly. "Accelerating."

"What's keeping us safe?" Rose asked just as worried.

"Nothing."

"Oh great, when you want to worry me, tell me, okay?" Sage snapped. She sighed then sirens sounded, startling her.

Jack looked up, "Ah, here they come again."

"Just what we need," Rose said dryly. "Didn't you say a bomb was gonna land here?"

Jack nodded tightly, and Sage turned her head sharply to the side. Someone was singing. “Doctor, can you hear that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, curiosity overtaking her and pushing her forwards.

"Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree tops," crooned a familiar voice.

She stopped by a shed and cracked the door open, sticking her head in. Sage caught Nancy's eyes and Nancy brought up her handcuffed wrists. She nodded and looked sharply at the man asleep with his head on the table.

A hand rested on her shoulder and Sage managed to catch herself from flailing. She looked up and the Doctor held up his sonic. She nodded before moving out of the way for the Doctor to enter.

The Doctor easily snapped Nancy's handcuffs in half and she stood up. The two softly made their way to the door and swiftly walked out, Jack, Rose and Sage following close behind. They briskly made their way over to the bomb and Sage shivered at the ominous feeling in the air.

She wrapped her jacket closer to her body and winced when she clenched her left hand too tight. The Doctor and Jack uncovered the tarp from over the bomb.

"You see?" Jack said with a triumphant tone. "Just an ambulance."

"That's an ambulance?" Nancy asked in bewilderment.

"It's hard to explain," Rose began, squeezing her arm in comfort. "It's— it's from another world."

Nancy gave her a disbelieving look. Sage nodded, "Nancy, you might not believe us but it's an alien ambulance designed by aliens that are not of this earth. We're telling the truth," she added when Nancy's look grew even more disbelieving.

The controls sparked, and everyone jumped back. More alarms blared, and Sage’s heart was hammering in her chest. The tendrils of anxiety were tightening her hold on her, digging her heels into the ground. She bit her bottom lip, taking a deep breath.

"Didn't happen last time," Jack commented.

"It didn't crash last time," the Doctor said. "They're the emergency protocols."

"Doctor, what's going on?" Rose asked worriedly.

The flashing red light distracted Sage as she tried to focus on the conversation. Distantly, she could hear Rose yelling and the Doctor ordering Jack around.

Her mind wandered, where was Jamie? Did he stay in the hospital? Would these alarms alert him to come here? And if he came here, would he bring the zombie people?

Jamie was killed by an ambulance here, she thought with irony. The ambulance, however, was an alien one. Aliens obviously have different types of medicine that benefited them. The nanogenes _obviously_ changed him.

Jack had those nanogenes, and didn't the Doctor say something about them checking for damage, fixing any physical flaws? If the bomb/ambulance had struck Jamie, and the nanogenes fell out, they’d be compelled to help Jamie, understanding that he was on the brink of death.

But those weren’t the same nanogenes that Jack had, that Jack _programmed_ with the basis of human physiology already. Jamie would be the basis of humans to the nanogenes’ knowledge.

And if Jamie was on the brink of death…. Those injuries, she remembered, feeling sick.

"Oh god, they just wanted to _help_ ," she breathed out.

The Doctor glanced at her, "You figure it out too?"

"Yeah, but…." she trailed off. Why did Jamie keep asking who his mother was? Why didn't he know? Surely Nancy would've told him, she seemed old enough to remember her.

She must've had some pictures, but wait. What if she didn't want Jamie to know the mother? But why would she not want Jamie to know? Sure, being orphans during World War II wasn't the best, but the memories made it better right?

Besides all mothers were basically housewives during this era, but they could still work. Even if it was mostly: grow up, get married and tend to the house and kids right? Nothing shameful about that though. Encouraged really. So why would Nancy not want Jamie to know who their mother was?

If it was shameful then… maybe…. Maybe _Nancy_ was his mother. All those kids, why she was so hesitant with answering, why Jamie didn't know his mother, it all made sense!

It wasn't that big of a leap but still a small jump. She could be totally wrong, but Jamie didn't know who his mother was. Nancy deliberately didn't tell him.

Those kids she looked after, she was making up for the fact that she lost her son.

Nancy had sounded so pained when she answered her before. Sure, it could've been because she lost her brother, but losing your child would be the same pain, if not doubled. And, of course, she wouldn't want Jamie to know. She was young, unmarried and an orphan. She'd be ridiculed, it'd be easier to pass off as siblings.

But they were mother and son. Mother and son… something about that tickled her mind, there was something about DNA that she should know, did parents have the dominant biology? Was that it?

If so then Nancy's biology should override what the nanogenes did!

"It's empty," she was broken from her thoughts by Jack's voice. "Look."

Sage peered into the ship as well as Nancy and Rose who were on either side of her. It was seemingly empty, but the nanogenes the Doctor showed appeared out of thin air as well.

"No, it wasn't," Sage interrupted. Jack made a face of betrayal at her.

"She's right," the Doctor inputted. "What do you expect in a Chula medical transporter? Bandages? Cough drops? Rose?"

Rose looked surprised at being asked, "I dunno."

"Yes, you do," the Doctor mimed summoning the nanogenes.

Rose's face lit up in realization, "Nanogenes!"

"It wasn't empty, Captain," he addressed Jack. "There were enough nanogenes in there to rebuild a species."

Jack stumbled back in realization, his face ashen white, "Oh god."

"Getting it now, are we?" the Doctor asked in contempt. "When the ship crashes, the nanogenes escape. Billions upon billions of them, ready to fix all the cuts and bruises in the whole world. But what they find first is a dead child, probably killed earlier that night and wearing a gasmask."

Sage snaked a hand out and grabbed onto Nancy's hand in comfort.

"And they brought him back to life? They can do that?" Rose asked.

"What's life? Life's easy. A quirk of matter. Nature's way of keeping meat fresh. Nothing to a nanogene. One problem, though, these nanogenes, they're not like the ones on your ship. This lot have never seen a human being before. Don't know what a human being's supposed to look like," the Doctor explained, the other three listening in rapt attention.

"All they've got to go on is one little body, and there's not a lot left. But they carry right on. They do what they're programmed to do, they patch it up. Can't tell what's gasmask and what's skull, but they do their best," Sage could hear the anger rising in the Doctor's voice and dropped Nancy's hand to go to him.

She felt his anger wane and he took a deep breath before continuing, "Then off they fly— off they go, work to be done. 'Cos you see now they think they know what people should look like and it's time to fix all the rest. And they won't ever stop. They won't ever, ever stop. The entire Human Race is gonna be torn down and rebuilt in the form of one terrified child looking for its mother, and nothing in the world can stop it!"

His words rose to a yell and Sage hovered, unsure if he wanted someone close and on hand. She still didn’t know where she stood with him. One moment they were the best of mates, the next and they were at each other’s throats. She settled for a hesitant hand on his arm.

The Doctor’s eyes flickered down to hers, and Sage was mesmerized by the absolute frozen fury in them. Blue and icy.

Rose and Nancy looked horror-struck, mouths agape, and Jack was abashed and shaken.

Jack opened his mouth and Sage cut off his denial with a sharp look. "I— I'm sorry," he choked out.

But the Doctor fixed him with a cold look, breaking off from Sage to examine the ship with his sonic.

"He's sorry," Sage said, trailing after him. "Don't lump him in with the rest of the horrors of the world. He’s not _proud_ of this. For god’s sake, Doctor, did you see his face?"

The Doctor didn't say anything, just continued sonicing the ship. She scowled and stared at the fences. She could make out figures coming closer in the distance. "Doctor," she called urgently. “You know science, right? Biology and that shite? Tell me, is this going to work?”

The Doctor stood up, following her line of sight. “Better plan than any,” he said finally. Rose rushed over to them, "It's bringing the gasmask people here, isn't it?"

"The ship thinks it's under attack. It's calling up the troops. Standard protocol," the Doctor answered.

"But the gas mask people aren't troops," Rose pointed out warily.

"They are now," Sage glared into the dark, the ominous feeling of being watched increasing tenfold. She rubbed her arms, sighing out. As much as she enjoyed the idea of being in history, the imminent threat of death, while thrilling, was making her wonder what would happen if the Doctor’s plan didn’t work.

And he had a plan.

She hoped.

"Battlefield ambulance," he explained. "The nanogenes don't just fix you up, they get you ready for the front line. Equip you, programme you."

"What joy," Sage groaned, gazing at the approaching soldiers.

"That's why the Child's so strong, why it could do that phoning thing."

"It's a fully equipped Chula warrior, yes. All that weapons tech in the hands of a hysterical four year old, looking for his mummy. And now there's an army of them." The gas mask people surrounded the fences, a blockade of bodies.

They stood there, perfect little soldiers, awaiting commands. The five exchanged nervous looks as the lights brightened and the sirens petered off in the distance but the bombs got louder and more insistent.

"Why won't they attack?" Jack asked.

"Good little soldiers. Waiting for their commander," the Doctor replied, never tearing his eyes off the soldiers.

"The child?" Jack asked confusedly.

"Jamie," Nancy cut in.

"What?"

"Not the child, his name's Jamie," she said, glaring at him.

"How long 'til the bomb falls?" Rose diverted the attention to her, tension simmering as the others tried to get themselves under control.

"Any second," Jack answered worriedly.

"What's the matter, Captain?" The Doctor taunted. "Bit close to the volcano for you?"

"He's just a little boy," Nancy's heartbroken tone wrenched at Sage's heart.

Sage broke first, "I know," she said, engulfing her in a hug. "Don't you think he deserves to know the truth then?" she whispered into Nancy's shoulder.

Nancy clung to Sage, "I— I— I— can't," she sobbed. Tears soaked Sage’s hair, terrible trembling and tremors wracked her body, and Sage soothed her, swaying her side to side with strokes through her hair.

"He's coming and he's going to keep asking. These might be our last moments, tell him. He deserves to know," Sage said, squeezing Nancy tight.

Nancy heaved even harder, clinging to Sage like her life depended on it. Sage rubbed soothing circles on her back, and Nancy's sobs softened to hiccups. She went limp in Sage’s arms, chest heaving and shudders all over her body.

The chants of mummy only got louder with each passing second.

"What's happening?" Rose asked.

"Single, teenage mother during the Blitz," the Doctor said softly. "She ran and hid the truth, even from her son."

Jack and Rose had a look of understanding and pity on their faces. A bomb dropped in the distance, shaking the earth, and they all flinched.

"Doctor," another bomb interrupted Jack. "That bomb. We've got seconds." He looked helpless, eyes darting back and forth between the makeshift army and the Doctor.

"You can teleport out," Rose said hopefully.

"Not you guys. The nav-com's back online. Gonna take too long to override the protocols," Jack denied.

Sage felt the Doctor's eyes fixated on her form, never wavering, "So it's volcano day. Do what you've got to do."

"Queenie?" his pleading tone turned to her.

"It's your choice, Jack," Sage said softly, closing her eyes. "Do what you know is best, and so will I." What she knew best was to trust the Doctor, and she did. With her life.

She just hoped she had a life after this.

"Jack?" Rose asked, betrayal lacing her tone. Jack looked away, denying anything with a hard sigh and a tensing of shoulders.

"He's not your brother, is he?" the Doctor asked softly, no judgement in his tone.

Nancy looked up from the crook of Sage's neck, shamefaced. She shook her head before burying her face back into Sage's neck.

The gates swung open with a large clang. Sage untangled herself from the embrace, gently taking Nancy's chin and wiping away the tear stains.

"C'mon brave heart," she said, distantly hearing the chants getting louder. "I think it's time he finally knows who his mother is," Sage tried for a smile. "And what a brave, beautiful and wonderful woman she is."

Sage steered Nancy by her shoulders to the front where Jamie stood. She gave a little push.

"Are you my mummy?" he asked.

"He's gonna keep asking, Nancy," the Doctor said gently. "He's never gonna stop. Tell him."

Nancy stood there, trembling, as she looked out into the vast array of soldiers marching forward. Jamie was standing in front of her, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"Nancy… the future of the human race is in your hands," the Doctor continued, more urgently than before. "Trust me… and tell him."

"Are you my mummy?"

Nancy sniffed, her eyes tearing up again. She took in a shuddering breath, gasps hitching in her chest.

"Are you my mummy? Are you my mummy?"

"Yes," Nancy whispered. She cleared her throat, puffing up a bit as she said the words, "Yes, I am your mummy." She knelt down to Jamie's height, and outstretched her arms.

"Mummy?"

"I'm here," she kept her arms held out and open. The embrace of a mother was trusting and open, and Sage’s attention was held tightly on the scene in front of her.

"Mummy?" Jamie walked closer and closer.

"I'm here."

"Are you my mummy?" Jamie looked hesitant as he got closer, steps shuffling and small. The naked hope in his voice was childish and absolutely heartbreaking.

"Yes," Nancy whispered one last time before engulfing Jamie in a huge hug.

"He doesn't understand. There's not enough left in him," the Doctor said, pessimistic.

Sage elbowed him in the side, "Pessimism doesn’t become you, Doc. Keep hope in us apes, yeah?"

Softly oh, so softly, golden yellow overrode the bright white lights above them. Clouds of nanogenes surrounded the two kneeling as Nancy said wetly, "I am your mummy. I will always be your mummy. I'm so sorry."

The nanogenes' bright light engulfed the place, and Sage was temporarily blinded as she shut her eyes. More so than usual.

"I am so, so sorry," Nancy murmured into the hug, clinging tighter and tighter.

"Please, please, please," Sage mumbled, eyes still closed in prayer. And because her vision was still spotty. "Let sophomore genetics be right."

"Doctor, what's happening?" Rose asked, but she received no answer, and fear overtook her voice. "Doctor?" she tried again. "It's— it's changing her. We should—"

"Shh," the Doctor shushed Rose, cutting her off gently. “Watch. Come on, please. Come on, you clever little nanogenes, figure it out! The mother. She's the mother! There's gotta be enough information, figure it out!" the Doctor pleaded.

"What's happening?" Rose asked, completely lost.

Sage was muttering prayers under her breath while the Doctor was practically bouncing on his toes, apprehensive and excited. "See?" The Doctor pointed at the golden halo around Nancy and Jamie. "Recognizing the same DNA."

Nancy fell to the ground, and Sage cried, "Nancy!" and rushed toward her.

The nanogenes flew away, and Sage immediately checked her over. The Doctor looked down at Jamie. "Oh, come on. Give me a day like this. Give me just this one," he pleaded, hardly daring to hope.

The Doctor reached for the gas mask and cautiously removed it. He quickly ripped it off when nothing happened.

The smiling, innocent face of Jamie revealed underneath the mask. Nancy stared, delighted, as the Doctor swung Jamie in a gracious hug, laughing.

"Yes!" Sage whooped happily. She helped Nancy up, giving her a relieved watery smile to which Nancy immediately returned. She nudged shoulders with her, grinning.

"Ah-ha-ha! Welcome back! Twenty years 'til pop music, you're gonna love it." he laughed, swinging Jamie around.

"What happened?" Nancy asked in wonder.

"The nanogenes recognised the superior information, the parent DNA. They didn't change you because you changed them! Haha!" He plopped Jamie down in front of her.

"Mother knows best!" the Doctor and Sage yelled together. Shark like grins on both their faces as Sage left mother and son back to bond.

"Jamie!" Nancy said wetly, hugging him close to her.

A bomb dropped nearby, and Rose startled and gave the general distance a worried look.

"Doctor, that bomb—"

"Taken care of!" The rush of adrenaline coated his words, mouth stretched wide in a smile that seemed almost inhuman. But Sage couldn’t help but smile back.

"How?"

He gestured furiously at Jamie and Nancy, "Psychology!"

The bomb plummeted toward them, but was snatched out of the air by a blue light. A moment later, Jack appeared in a hologram of that blue light. "Doctor!"

"Good lad!"

"The bomb's already commenced detonation. I've put it in stasis but it won't last long," he explained and something knowing was exchanged between the men that Sage couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Change of plan, don't need the bomb. Can you get rid of it? Safely as you can?"

"Rose?" Jack said, voice in slight despair.

"Yeah?"

"Goodbye."

Jack disappeared and Rose looked down in disappointment. He reappeared with a smirk, Rose's head shot up, hope in her eyes. But Jack's next words only lent her a wan smile, "By the way, love the tee-shirt. Guess you were wrong, Queenie." He disappeared a last time before Sage could say anything. She stood there, looking at where Jack was with a frown.

Jack's ship zoomed off to the distance and the Doctor walked towards the fallen ship. He clicked his fingers, and the nanogenes fluttered around his hand.

"What're you doing?" Rose asked.

"Software patch. Gonna email the upgrade. You want moves, Rose? I'll give you moves."

He threw the nanogenes away from him, toward the gasmask people who were still milling around on the train track. The Doctor gave his widest grin as the gasmask people fell to the floor, the nanogenes surrounding them.

"Everybody lives, Rose, Sage!" he shouted, ecstatic. "Just this once. Everybody lives!"

Sage stood there with a wide grin as she watched the previously gasmask people stand up back to their normal selves.

The Doctor bounced to Dr Constantine and Sage watched with a fond smile, as she crossed her arms.

A small hand tugged onto the hem of her coat, she looked down and Jamie was staring up at her. She crouched down and picked him up, steadying him on her hip. "Now, why're you with me and not your mummy?" she cooed, tapping his nose.

"She said to come and thank you, Miss Sage," he said with a cheerful tone.

"Oh," Sage blinked surprised. "Well, tell your mummy that it was all her. She only needed a small push and a big hug from _you_."

Jamie giggled, giving her a starry eyed grin. "Will you come and visit?" he asked, blinking hopeful blue eyes at her.

"Oh,” Sage blinked. How to explain to a five year old that she did not belong in this century? “—um, well," she stuttered. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I don't think we'll see each other again."

He pouted up at her with his big doe eyes and Sage crumpled. She shifted her hold, rummaging in her pockets. She hoped there was something in here that would make Jamie turn away those bright, pouting blue eyes.

Her hand grasped something that crinkled as she pulled it out. A newspaper clipping, Sage surprised yet not that it was there at all. She thought it'd be a toy or something, but this worked just as well. "Here, a picture of me and the others. Hopefully it's enough to remember us by." Sage set him down gently, and Jamie raced off, the picture held tightly in his hand.

She knew exactly what the picture was. It was Rose, the Doctor and her, standing in the ruins of Downing Street.

A photographer had snapped the photo when they watched Indra and Harriet walk off with a fond smile. The article nearly gave her a heart attack when she saw her own face with the others, but the picture had quickly blown over when Harriet was elected prime minister. Still, Sage had cut it out, sentimental, and pinned it up to her corkboard. She could get another one, she still had the newspaper, and she had a time machine at her disposal.

Nancy came up next to her, "Suppose I owe you thanks."

Sage smiled, swinging an arm around Nancy for a quick hug. "None necessary, Nance. Just as long as you live a long and happy life after this godsforsaken war is over. Maybe you should move to the colonies, who knows? The world's your oyster, just remember: anyone who's in your family is everything." Sage grinned and kissed her cheek, "Bye, Nancy. Maybe we'll see each other again. I gotta go, else those two are gonna leave me."

Nancy laughed, squeezing Sage again. “I will, thank you. I think, after the war, I’ll take me and Jamie across the pond. Land of opportunity and freedom, right?”

“Right!” Sage agreed, not wanting to get into politics. “I hope you have a happy life, Nancy. You and Jamie both.” Nancy smiled genuinely, tears threatening to break out. She nodded, and Sage ran away with a farewell wave and nod so that she didn’t cry either.

Sage jogged to catch up with the others, catching the tail end of Rose and the Doctor’s conversation.

"—I'm not, red bicycle when you were twelve?"

"What?" Rose asked, startled.

Sage smiled, bouncing up to sit on the jumpseat, content to watch. Though she did have to wonder what happened with the nanogenes. Did the Doctor leave them with Dr Constantine? That didn’t seem to be good, even if Dr Constantine seemed like a good man.

"And everybody lives!" he cried, stretching out his arms wide in a facsimile of Nancy’s hug that saved the world. "Everybody lives!" He hit a switch on the console.

"Doctor…" Rose started, looking hesitant to even bring it up.

"Go on,” the Doctor pushed despite the tone, “ask me anything. I'm on fire!"

"What about Jack?"

The Doctor's smile faded but he continued to work on the controls.

"Why'd he say goodbye?" Rose continued.

The Doctor stared intently at the console before he flipped a switch. The engines roared to life and they dematerialized. Sage frowned before Glenn Miller blared on. The other two started dancing again, and Sage looked at them weirdly. She stood up, going to the doors. She pushed them open to reveal Jack sitting, his back to them.

"Well, c'mon then!" Rose yelled with a smile. She was trying to teach the Doctor how to dance to no avail. Sage snickered at the display, adrenaline still pumping her heart up to a mile a minute. "Okay, okay, try and spin me again, but this time, don't get my arm up my back!" Rose said.

The Doctor spun her around, getting her arms all twisted up. He made a noise of frustration and Rose laughed brightly, "And no points for a half-nelson."

"I'm sure I used to know this stuff," the Doctor protested. He frowned, looking back towards the doors, "Close the door, will you," he said to Jack. "Your ship's about to blow up, there's gonna be a draft."

Sage rolled her eyes but nodded to Jack who eagerly stumbled out of his ship into the TARDIS. She welcomed him with a clap on his shoulder, which he didn’t seem to notice, still stunned by the TARDIS herself. She discreetly clicked her fingers behind her back. The doors closed promptly shut and she hid a grin. The others didn’t seem to notice what she did, and she mentally pictured a high five with the TARDIS, a secret between them.

The Doctor flicked a switch and the engines started up again, "Welcome to the TARDIS."

"Much bigger on the inside," Jack said in awe of the sheer size. Then he grinned and gave Sage a lewd smirk that bordered on lavsicious. She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder. He didn’t refuse, only rubbing his shoulder and waggling his eyebrows.

"You better be," the Doctor warned.

"I think what the Doctor is saying is," Rose said, bouncing up to Jack. "That you may cut in." She offered him a hand and the Doctor had a pout on his face before he straightened up. He pressed a button and ‘In the Mood’ started to play.

"Rose!" the Doctor cut off the other two. "I've just remembered! I can dance!" He moved with the beat, clicking his fingers in time. Rose and Jack shared a look and Jack nodded his head toward the Doctor.

Rose smiled blindingly wide before bounding up to the Doctor. They danced together, laughing and smiling together. The music blared on, cheery and present as the lights dimmed and brightened to the mood.

Sage sidled up next to Jack, "Sorry again— for punching you. Multiple times."

Jack flapped a hand in dismissive acceptance, "Nah, I deserved it. I unknowingly brought a plague upon 1940s London, could've disrupted the time line if not for you two and the Doc."

"Unknowingly being the operative word there," Sage interjected. The music got a bit louder, and the pounding in her head threatened a migraine. She jerked her head towards the hallway, "C'mon, while they're distracted. I'll show you to your room."

"Not one for dancing?" Jack waggled his eyebrows, a salacious grin playing on his lips.

"No," Sage said bluntly, and she delighted in the surprise on Jack's face. "Not that kind, at least. But I can waltz and I rather like doing the tango."

"I'd rather the _horizontal_ tango, if ya know what I mean," Jack followed after Sage, the music fading away the further they got from the console room.

"Unfortunately," Sage said drily, amused at the mocking face Jack made in reaction. She turned a corner, leading him to a big mahogany door with his initials engraved on it. A knock on the wood, "Your room as stated."

Jack pushed through, jaw slack at the sheer size of the room. "This— is a _suite_ , not a room. Is that a mini bar?"

Sage peered over his shoulder, "Cocktail bar by the looks of it actually."

"I don't know why I'm surprised," he said, shaking his head in amazement. "This is clearly a dimensional ship. What kind?"

"Err… Time Lord?" Sage shrugged. "I'm not the science-y one here. I barely know what a Time Lord is. I _do_ know that the ship's name is TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"A Time Lord ship?" Jack whistled in appreciation. "I thought they all went extinct in the Time War."

"Obviously not all," the Doctor interrupted drily and both Jack and Sage jumped, turning to look sheepishly at the Doctor who was watching them with hidden amusement, arms crossed over his chest. "Captain," he inclined his head, blue eyes stormy, "I hope we were right in inviting you on board. I don’t give second chances.”

“Doctor,” Sage interrupted before the Doctor could issue out any more threats, “it’s been a long day— night— whatever. I’m sure us humans could do with a bit of a rest.”

Jack took that as his subtle cue to leave, inching his way into his room and closing the door shut. Sage sighed, wishing him a belated goodnight.

The Doctor raised a brow at her, following, when she started to walk away. "You're rather chummy with him."

"I think he's charming," she said honestly. "Boyishly charming but charming nevertheless."

"Charming, right," he scoffed. He fell in step with her, and Sage looked up at him with a quirk of her lips. The skepticism and genuine dislike was blaring from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, a moue of distaste on his lips.

“Like Rose said, he kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh, not this again,” the Doctor groaned, fixing Sage with a glare of displeasure that she had to laugh.

“No, seriously. A confident, self-assured, almost cocky, thief that believes he can handle everything?” Sage looked the Doctor up and down, lips quirking up slightly as he looked at her in disbelief, “You’re right; I don’t see the resemblance at all.”

“You’re a menace, Sage Tran.”

“Only a menace?” Sage snapped her fingers, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “I’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Oh? What do you hope to achieve?”

“Well, I’ve been called rascal. Rotten kid, damn thing, scamp, devil himself, and a hellion. I think I’d like to try rapscallion one day,” Sage said with an impish grin, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet, arms crossed behind her back.

“Here’s a new one for your list: you’re an absolute rotter, you are.” The Doctor fixed her with a fond, affectionate smile that made her stomach do flips and a sinking feeling overwhelm her.

“Absolute rotter?” Sage pretended to think, tapping a finger to her lip. “You know what, it’s got a rather nice ring to it. You think I could put it on business cards? Or my CV?”

The Doctor shook his head with a wry grin and a dry chuckle. “You’re something else, Sage Tran.” And that was said much too fondly to be platonic and Sage did not want to think about it.

“Obviously,” she cleared her throat, “a menace and a rotter, don’t you remember?”

“You really think the Captain and I resemble each other?” the disgust in his tone was canceled out by the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I think you’re much more human than you’d like to think,” Sage said, words as honest as she was.

“Human? Me? You know Time Lords came first, don’t you?” he said with all the offense he could muster.

“I’ll take ‘State the Obvious’, for 1200, Alex,” Sage said dryly. “Obviously, modern humanity has barely been around for 300,000 years. If you’re like a million years old or whatever, then _obviously_ your lot came first.”

“Oi! I’m on the cusp of my prime. Barely 900, I am.”

“Sure, Doc,” she drawled, grinning at the offended look on his face. She stuck a tongue out at him. A troubled look crossed her face, she wanted to ask about the nanogenes and if he had left them with Dr Constantine but she could only remember the odd row that the two of them had before Jamie and Nancy saved the world. She bit her bottom lip, averted her eyes, “We’re… good, right?”

“‘Course we are,” the Doctor gave her a weird look, “why wouldn’t we?”

Sage scrunched up her face, biting her lip against words wanting to spill out. She shook her head, if the Doctor didn’t want to talk about it or whatever then she didn’t have to either. “Never mind, just in my head. Here’s me.” She gestured at her door before the Doctor could comment. “Good night then, Doctor. Or whatever counts as night here.”

The Doctor watched her as she closed the door, bidding her a smile of good night that she returned with a wide grin. He stood, staring at the door for a long time, thoughts bouncing.

“Something else, indeed,” he said softly.

He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts from mind. Maybe Sage and Rose would like to visit Barcelona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everybody! And hey, Americans- _The horse is out of the hospital!_ I just had to say that. 
> 
> I changed _a lot_ of this chapter if any of you guys read the original. Because I've always _hated_ that chapter. I hated how I handled Rose, how I handled Jack and Sage. And it's such a pity because Doctor Dances is my favourite Nine episode. This new one- It's marginally better. 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will probably be up in March. No promises, but that's a tentative guess so have that to look forward to. All mistakes are mine, etc, etc.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and I will see _you_ in the next chapter!


	13. Ohana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is much harder to live with when you barely know anything about each other.
> 
> OR
> 
> another 5+1 but with Team TARDIS learning how to be a family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW** Skip this note if you want to read without spoilers. **CW**
> 
>  **CW** Sage does appear to zone out in the first scene and it could be taken as dissociation. Jack uses the word 'sweetheart' which triggers Sage. She freaks out, thinking that she's back with her ex-boyfriend and flips him onto the table. The second scene has Rose and Sage discussing about their past boyfriends and while it does not go in depth, it does have strong language. **CW**
> 
> Feb 12, 2021

“Mmm, never have I ever streaked naked anywhere.”

“Oh, now you’re just playing dirty, Queenie,” Jack bemoaned, knocking a shot back with barely a grimace.

“Sorry that I don’t have an exhibisiontist streak a mile wide like you do,” Sage cackled. Jack didn’t look all that put out by the slight. “What’s that? Your seventh shot now?”

“Might be my eighth,” he peered down at the shot glass in his hand then to the vodka bottle. He shrugged and poured another.

They were at a bar. Well, a fancy night club, really. It was a joint that Jack had taken them to after having saved a royal family on one planet or another (entirely by accident going by Jack’s story apparently) and the three of them had begged the Doctor off for one night of fun rather than adventure.

It was a classy little place, much to both Sage and Rose’s surprise when he first introduced them to the bar. Cosy and neat but still fucking dirty when one paid attention to what happened on stage. Jack had introduced them to the manager, sticking his tongue down his throat and then getting them free alcohol for a night.

“How your liver is still functioning is beyond me,” Sage shook her head, leaning back into the booth cushion seat. “Rosie, it’s your turn to ask.”

They had sequestered themselves into a private little room after Jack had started hitting on two of the patrons and trying to get into their pants. Suffice to say, their partners had not enjoyed that, and Sage and Rose had to break up the ensuing fight.

Luckily, it hadn’t been so bad that they were kicked out; the barkeep must’ve had a huge crush on Jack or at least felt beholden to him enough to just send them away to their own room like a child. Just with loads and loads of alcohol.

“Hmm,” Rose looked calculatingly between the two of them. Jack’s bleary red eyed and very, very open state and Sage’s serene calm and wicked grin. “Never have I ever… got punched by a person half my size.”

“Now you’re just targeting me,” Jack complained. He still knocked back another shot.

Rose cackled before her eyes widened when Sage threw her water back like a shot. “Sage, _no._ What? You’re kidding.”

“Nah, my brother has a nasty right hook if he wanted. Gave me a black eye and everything, too.”

Rose burst into laughter at the thought of Sage, diminutive as she already were getting punched in the face by another kid. “I’m trying to picture it now! God, how small was he?”

“Hey! I was right tall back in the day. Tallest in my grade,” Sage puffed out her chest, proud and peacocking. Rose only roared uproariously louder with her laughter, hitting the table in her glee.

“Not anymore!”

“Don’t seem like the person to get punched,” Jack slurred, bright eyed. “You look all prim and proper, ‘specially with those glasses of yours. Wouldn’t be surprised if you wore suits all the time when lecturing. Hmm, you sure you don’t want space vodka?”

Sage shook her head, an amused smile making her lips quirked up. “Nah, I’m leaving that to you. I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Uhhh, personal choice?” Rose asked, cheeks flushed red, as if she didn’t ask at the beginning.

“Bit of this, bit of that,” Sage answered just as vaguely as she did in the beginning. The other two accepted that as an answer again, returning to their own drinks. Jack shakily poured some more for himself and Rose, lifting his shot up in a toast.

“To Sage, for what I don’t fucking know,” he announces, and Rose lifted her glass in solidarity. They both knock back their drinks and Rose let peels of laughter escape her, drunkenly giggling.

They had been there for close to five hours now, dancing and singing and generally just having the time of their lives. The music was tapering off now, patrons starting to leave and waitstaff glaring at them when they weren’t looking.

“Alright, I think the game’s over now,” Sage said, watching Rose and Jack start to bicker about… swiss cheese and eggs. “Yeah, I’m definitely cutting you two off.”

“Aww, c’mon, Queenie,” Jack whined, reaching out to latch onto Sage’s arm when she reached for the vodka bottle. He rubbed his cheek against the sleeve of her arm. “One more drink?”

“No, Jack, you need some water in you.”

“Water’s for losers,” Rose declared, trying to also grab at the bottle. She wasn’t at all successful, her motor skills severely handicapped by the alcohol in her system.

“Water’s for people who still want their livers intact by the time they’re forty,” Sage retorted. She batted away the grabby hands, scolding them lightly with amusement dancing on her face. They were like children without their inhibitions.

“C’mon, Sage,” Jack crooned, grabbing her wrist as she tried to clean up, “just another drink, sweetheart,” and Sage froze.

Everything blurred out a bit, and the smell of alcohol was overwhelming. It stung her nose, making it stuffy and her vision whited out a bit. The grip around her wrist was grounding and suffocating, encircling her wrist and she felt like she would lose circulation altogether.

Deliriously, she thought she might have to lop off her wrist.

“Jonah,” Sage said calmly even as her heart was racing fast enough to beat a racehorse in a competition, “let go of me.”

“Jonah?” the voice came out slurred and confused, and his grip tightened to the point that Sage thought her heart might pop. “Who the fuck is that?”

“I dunno,” another, higher pitched, voice said, marginally more sober.

“I _said_ , let go, you fucking prick,” Sage seethed. She twisted her wrist to grab his, feeling a satisfaction of vindication at the cry of pain as she twisted his hand around his back and slammed him down to the table. One hand around an arm and the other pressing him hard against the wood.

“Queenie! Queenie! Calm down, it’s me, Jack!” “Sage, please, let him go! You’re hurting him!”

Reality came with a blink of an eye and it wasn’t Jonah that she had manhandled against the desk, arm around his back but instead Jack who was looking back at her with wide, blue eyes and she cursed.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Fuck!_ ” Sage let go of him as if her hands burned, retreating to the wall of the booth. She bit her bottom lip, lifting a fist to her mouth to hide the rest of the curses. “Shit, fuck. Jack, are you alright?”

He rotated his wrist with a wince but still gave her a bright smile. “Never better, Queenie. Though, if I knew you wanted to get frisky I wouldn’t have drank two bottles of vodka.”

Sage managed a feeble smile at the attempt at humour. She took off her glasses, pocketing them and rubbed at her face, feeling years of pressure weighing her down. She hunched down, huddling deeper into the wall and wondering if the ground could somehow swallow her up right now.

“Still, I’m fucking sorry, mate.”

Jack waved it off with a dismissive smile and another shot glass knocked back. Sage huffed a laugh and even Rose managed a weak smile. The three sat together in tense, slightly uncomfortable silence, nursing wounds and drinks.

“So… Jonah?” Rose brought up hesitantly, and Sage tensed.

“Bad break up,” Sage said with a little dark smile that made Rose shiver a bit, looking more and more sober as the seconds passed.

Rose nodded, “I know all about those kinds of break ups.”

“Ugh, you’re telling me,” Jack slumped against the table, a hand on the neck of a vodka bottle he magically procured out of nowhere. “One time, me and this Wunuveon, they and I had been fucking for months and then they dropped me out of nowhere. But well to be fair I had been fucking someone else as well. But they were the best fuck I had in a while. Mmm, those cocks, reached places I didn’t know could be reached.”

“Ugh, too much information, Jack,” Rose scrunched her nose at that, going cross-eyed.

Sage couldn’t help it, she burst out into giggles, delighting in Rose’s disgusted looking pout and Jack’s satisfied looking grin. The other two gave each other a look before joining in on the laughter.

* * *

“Thought I’d find you here,” Rose said, still looking at the exercise room with a look of disapproval.

Sage had boxing gloves covering her hands this time, covering her clenched fists. She wiped an arm across her face, wiping the sweat away. “You found me,” Sage said, going back to the weighted punching bag.

“So I did,” Rose said quietly. She watched Sage, grimacing at the force behind the punches. To be honest, Rose didn’t quite know what to do. She had never been good at one on one personal talks before. She preferred to either straight on face a problem or to pretend that it just didn’t exist.

“Who’s Jonah?”

Sage gave her a rather vicious glare that made Rose shrink back at the ferocity, not wanting to get burned. Rose sighed, this was going to be much more difficult than she had thought. This Jonah, whoever he was, was a sore subject between Sage and her past. Much like someone else she knew.

“You don’t need to explain,” Rose started.

Sage caught the back swing of the punching bag, chest heaving. She raised a brow, grunting, “Then I won’t.”

“Was he an ex?”

Sage only pummeled the sandbag even harder that Rose had to wince for Sage’s knuckles’ sake. Rose’s eyes wandered to the haphazard things scattered by the bench by the punching figure. The glasses laying clattered and on its back told Rose that Sage wasn’t wearing her contacts now.

“Bad terms?”

“Look, Rose, I’m warmed by the fact that you thought you needed to check in on me—”

“I’m not checking in on you, I just wanted to talk.”

Sage stopped, staring at Rose in disbelief, brow raised in incredulity. She scoffed with a cruel smirk, “Right. All the same, I’d like to get my hours in and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to do them alone.” She turned, swiping her water bottle and drinking down a harsh swig of water. She let out a huge gasp of breath as she tried to suck in gulps of air. Sage threw the bottle harshly to the ground where it rolled away, empty.

“My first boyfriend wasn’t Mickey!” Rose blurted out, not liking the anger raging inwardly in Sage. She cursed herself, seeing Sage’s tense and rigid spine. But the truth had been punctured and the words were flowing out like a dam had burst.

“His name was Jimmy. Jimmy Stone. He was older than me. Dropped out of school before he could finish his GCSEs and he said he was going to be a rock star. That he was going on tour and that he was going to take me with him.”

Sage had frozen against the punching bag, swaying slightly with it, standing ramrod straight. Rose didn’t know if she was paying attention or if she was just in shock. Regardless, Rose barrelled on, wanting, _needing,_ to get it out.

“I dropped out of school for him. Me and mum had a nasty row about it, so bad that I packed my things and left to go stay with Jimmy. And it was good. For a few weeks. His flat was a bit cramped, but it felt so _good_ to not be with mum anymore. Out of her thumb and control. Jimmy would always bring his mates around, so it weren’t like I were lonely neither.”

Sage sucked in a breath, and Rose took that as confirmation to continue, ignoring the trembling and the shakes.

"It was fun. Jimmy and his bandmates took me to gigs and I traveled with them for a couple months. I didn't see mum for a while but I sent her a few postcards. But then the gigs started dying down and the band didn't have a real manager and they couldn't book any more so the money wasn't flowing in.

"So I started working some side gigs for Jimmy, just waitressing and stuff like that. Something to help keep the roof over our heads as he'd like to say, pull my weight and whatnot. And— and it was _hard_. I was barely sixteen, and I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I was in love.”

Sage was practically vibrating right now, anger emanating from her tense shoulders. Rose was pretty sure that the anger wasn’t directed at her, but it was drawing back some bad memories. She hadn’t thought about Jimmy in ages. It had been a distant, _buried_ , memory for a reason. She remembered how torn apart she was after she had left Jimmy.

Her mum had been pleading for her to come back for months, clogging up her cell and memory card. She had been half tempted back then to delete her mum’s number and even to get a new mobile altogether. But the cost of a new cell had been too much for her and Jimmy once her band started to tank.

“There weren’t no more tours or gigs or anything,” Rose hunched down as she started to remember the dwindling few weeks she spent with Jimmy, staying more out of spite than true love. “And— and Jimmy started getting _mean_ , a little slap here and there, a bit more rough shoving than I was used to.”

Rose took in a shuddering breath, harsh and short. She never liked remembering the end of her and Jimmy. “And then— after work I came home and I saw Jimmy with a— a _slag_ in _our_ bed. And I got so— so mad. I yelled at him, broke them apart. I left the flat that day, crying, and I called mum and Mickey. I broke down, admitted that I needed help, that I needed them. They got me out.

“ _Say_ something, Sage,” Rose said, anger licking at her heels when it looked like Sage wouldn’t respond, “you can’t just hide from your feelings by punching a bag every day.”

“What do you want me to say to that, Rose?” Sage exploded, pushing off from the punching bag and straightening her back. She got into Rose’s face, eyes hard and words venomous. “Did you want me to spill my guts over him? That we would commiserate over our, frankly, rather horrible choice in first boyfriends and laugh at the end of it and come out better friends? That I would gripe about the vices of my past? That I would tell you that I had an ex-boyfriend who ripped me apart? That he tore me limb from limb and left me black and blue?

“That he _abused_ me? That he ruined my future and broke me down that I thought I couldn’t even have one? That I am only _just_ barely healing from that torture slowly day by day, minute by minute? What do you _want_ from me, Rose?”

The words hurt, the visceral and vitriol spewed from Sage’s lips as easily as peeling open an orange and it made Rose’s heart ache all the more. This was a woman in pain, she had to remind herself. Not an enemy, not someone to fight back.

“Honesty, for one,” Rose said when she could find her words again.

“I’ve been honest with you,” Sage scoffed, turning back to stabilize the swaying punching bag. Her black hair was in shambles, wisps of hair pulled free from her ponytail and stuck to her face from the sweat.

Rose gave her a grin that came out more of a grimace, “You’ve been hiding more than you’ve been honest, Sage, and I think we both know that. That little speech was only the second time you've ever been honest with me about your past.”

Sage paused for the barest hint of a second before she flatly said, “Go away, Rose, I want to be alone now.”

“I don’t think you do,” Rose retorted in a shock of bravery. She took a step forward, not too close to startle Sage, she wouldn’t want Sage to shut down and turn her away again. “I don’t think you really want to be alone. Just that you’re used to being alone, to holding your own and so that’s what you know and this? Me coming to you and seeking you out to help you, you have _no_ idea how to respond to that so you’re pushing me away.”

“Oh, so you got your psychology degree, Miss no A-levels,” Sage spat out.

“And now you’re lashing out with harsh insults and wounding words,” Rose continued despite the hurt that the words gave her.

“I give one bit of advice over panic attacks and suddenly you’re an expert over them?”

“Are you having a panic attack?”

Sage scowled, punching the bag again, but it was weak, barely moving the thing, “No.”

“Because if you were, I won’t judge you for it. You know that, Sage. Hiding your emotions won’t change the past any more than you wish it would. Experiences shape people, right?”

“Excuse me for not wanting to remember an abusive ex.”

“At least you admit to it,” Rose said, “I didn’t want anything to do with Jimmy after I left him. I was despondent, stuck in my room for days on end. I didn’t even want to say that he was abusive. I don’t like to think he were. He never left anything that bruised more than a few days, never pushed so hard that I got too hurt.”

“But he did it anyway,” Sage refuted, as Rose knew she would. She turned back to Rose, defensive stance softening as she started to argue with Rose. “He made you feel unsafe. That ain’t a healthy premise for any relationship. And if he made you scared in any way or even hurt you without an apology, without any way for the two of you to past the hurdle and fix it then that’s a huge fucking red flag. It’s abuse, no other word for it.”

Rose didn’t respond, letting Sage’s own words sink in. She just watched as Sage slumped back against the punching bag, cursing under her breath with a smug sort of smile. Rose didn’t think hammering in words like Sage did to her would get her to realize anything. This made it so that Sage would be the one to make the connection with only a bit of prodding from Rose herself.

“Cruel, Rose,” Sage said in realization, a reluctant smile on her face, a tiny bit grateful. “Making me say that. But I already knew it was abuse. You didn’t need to convince me of that.”

“Perhaps not. But, still necessary,” Rose threw back, the echo of their words bringing about the unbidden smile. A reverse of their situation from that night. “Don’t be a hypocrite, alright, Sage?”

Sage gave Rose a brisk nod, turning away and resting her forehead heavily against her punching bag.

“Jonah’s the reason I don’t drink,” Sage said after a while, filling in the silence with her simple words.

Rose tilted her head, not wanting to interrupt. This was something Sage needed to get out, needed to tell someone else. She needed to get out of her own head, and Rose was here to help her realize that she didn't have to do it all alone.

“He owned a pub, nice joint and a bit posh but not so trashy that it could be called a pig-sty. He and his mate had it well in hand. Then, one day, I don’t know he got bad news or something, but he started drinking down bottle after bottle. It didn’t make sense to me. I thought we were good, that we had a good life. But he kept drinking and drinking and—”

Sage punched the weighted bag with her frustration, huffing in anger. "Anyway, it weren't good. I called the cops on him when it got too much and— I— left. Moved out of my flat and right into the estates. Lived there for a few years and then I met the Doctor, then your mother, so on and so forth. It ain’t that interesting.”

Silently, Rose disagreed, but Sage was withdrawing into herself now. Her punches were weaker, not even touching the punching bag anymore, light taps that meant nothing. Sage sighed, resting a gloved fist over the punching bag.

She rested her head against the plastic covering, and Rose vibrated with the need to go to her, to comfort Sage like she had done to Rose that night. But she hesitated. Unsure if it would be welcome.

Sage closed her eyes, exhaling slowly out through her nose. “I want to be alone now, Rose,” she said quietly.

Not wanting to push her luck any more than she already did, Rose left, the victory feeling hollow.

* * *

Jack had been worried that the palpable tension between the women had been because of him and how his drinking had instigated the tumbling of bricks. The Doctor hadn’t seemed to notice, or if he had, he didn’t dare to comment.

The domestics, Jack imagined the man would say, were better off sorted with the apes.

He was only slightly ashamed to say that he was wary about how to approach things with Sage. He was a coward. Always had been, and Sage seemed to have a temper that could rival even the Doctor’s on a bad day.

So he made lighthearted jokes most of the time, avoiding the real issue. He knew that that wasn’t a good method to approach with, but Sage seemed all the more relieved and grateful for it.

Rose seemed to be the one pushing towards getting Sage to talk, anyway.

Damned if he said it, but Jack didn’t know where he stood in the relationship amongst the four of them. He was grateful for Sage and Rose. Because he knew the two of them had pushed for the Doctor to not abandon him to his own death. And without them, he would be bits amongst a space wreck.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, wandering around the many, many hallways of the TARDIS. God, a TARDIS, an actual Time Lord ship. He still couldn’t believe his luck in joining the other three.

He clenched his hands tighter into fists. They twitched sometimes, with the need to nick something and stow it away. To use it and squeeze all its potential out for him to get further in life. He had to actively tell himself that it wasn’t worth it, that he’d probably be killed by the ship itself before he could get far.

That wasn’t the way that Jack wanted to go. Much too anti-climatic. He’d rather be exploded to bits by a bomb than silently assassinated by a possibly sentient time ship.

The lights brightened in good humour, and Jack took that as a sign that the possibility wasn’t a bit of a stretch.

“Oh, fuck.”

Jack stopped before a barely open door, peeking his head in to see Sage amidst dirty bowls, caked with flour or some sort of dough. He raised a brow, surprised that Sage was a baker.

Or at least attempting to bake from what he could gather. She cursed a bit too much to be comfortable with baking. Or that was just how she baked.

Sage dropped a pan which clanged harshly, reverberating around the lavish kitchen.

Jack winced. Maybe not.

He pushed open the door wider, striding through. “Hand it over, watching you try and bake is giving me hives.”

“You can bake?” Sage asked skeptically, but she handed over the whisk and the bowl all the same, watching him discard the whisk and look around for a hand mixer.

He made a noise of triumph, plugging the machine in and immediately mixing the bowl without a single stain. Sage watched him, impressed, and Jack inwardly preened at the chance to show off his skills. His baking skills, that was. It wasn’t often that he had the chance to bake things without always having to look over his shoulder.

“What were you trying to bake anyway?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Sage replied, hoisting herself up onto a clean countertop. “I had a craving, and well I tried to make some, but I’ve never been any good at baking.”

“It’s simple science, isn’t it?” Jack set down the mixed ingredients, looking through the cabinets for some more butter. He meandered through the other ingredients, stuck between deciding if he wanted to get more fancy with the cookies or to stick with simple.

“You can do something else if you want,” Sage piped up when he took too long to decide, and Jack snuck a look over his shoulder. She had changed out of dirty clothes at least, lounging like a cat atop the only clean counter.

“I only wanted chocolate chip cookies because I like chocolate. And it’s been a while since I’ve had homemade ones.” Sage leaned over to fill a glass with water, dropping ice cubes into it. She nursed the glass like her own coffee mug, her lips skimming the top but not taking any sips as she watched Jack worked.

He worked the ingredients together, pushed into baking. “Do you usually bake the cookies yourself?”

“God, no,” Sage laughed, mildly embarrassed. “No, no, Mickey bakes it. I supply dinner, he makes the dessert. Them’s the rules. Fair trade off, that way, I think. You should try his cheesecake one day. It is _divine_ , and I usually don’t like cheesecake.”

“Yeah?” Jack hummed, mixing the dry ingredients and wet together. “Maybe one day we could have ourselves a little bake off. America versus Britain.”

“You had Bake Off in the fifty first?” Sage took a sip of water, dark eyes watching him intently.

“Well, all the hosts had been replaced by bots by then, so the zing isn’t the same. Robots don’t have the same sort of… personality, yanno?”

“I’ve never watched a game show that had robots in it, no,” Sage replied drily. “Still, traveling and comparing the past to your present, that must be pretty interesting, don’t you think?”

Jack shrugged blandly, shoving the mixture into the freezer for a bit. “I prefer to stay in the moment.”

“Get a lot of people in your bed with that line?” Sage asked wryly, rinsing her empty glass and setting it to dry.

“Why? Would it work on you?” Jack gave her his best salacious grin, his grin only widening when she rolled his eyes with a small quirk of her lips.

“No, and you know it won’t,” Sage chided playfully, shaking her head. “Cute attempt at changing the subject though. I suppose I shall have to be more direct. Why did you choose to be a Time Agent in the first place?”

Jack made a big show of taking the chilled dough out of the freezer. He washed his hands, scrubbing more vigorously than necessary and toweling off just as briskly. He rolled the dough into shapely little balls, evening out the spaces as he did. Setting it up and putting them into the oven didn’t take as long as he wanted it to take, and when he looked up Sage was still watching him with a wry look on her face.

“Thought it’d be a bit of fun. Was bored being the poster boy of the peninsula, and I wanted to see the world. The Time Agency was hiring and so I joined. But I’m not gonna spill my guts without you spilling some of your own. Why did you join the Doctor?”

Sage gave him a look like she knew his answer wasn’t the full truth and that he was changing the subject on purpose. “It was because of a bet, really.”

“A bet?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I— uh— I met the Doctor while he was a bit incapacitated, made him some tea, saved the earth and then went on with my life.”

“Yeah, not seeing where the bet comes in.”

“Just wait, god you’re impatient,” Sage scolded, and Jack put his hands up in the air innocently. “Where was I? Oh, you haven’t experienced it yet, but you will. The Doctor’s driving can be _horrific_ sometimes. Dates wrong, places wrong. It’s amazing the man’s still alive. But I just think it’s because he’s like a cat. Nine lives and all that.”

“So you bet on the Doctor trying to get him to pick you up at a certain time? And that’s why you’re here now?”

“Got it in one. I was content with my life, maybe not always _happy_. But I wasn’t exactly complaining either. The Doctor’s life is nebulous and always up in the air. And my position in life isn’t so… undefined.”

“Why’d you make the bet in the first place?”

“Ask the ship,” Sage said, and Jack gave her an incredulous look, looking around at the kitchen with wide eyes.

She laughed, “I’m serious. I accepted the bet on the ship’s request. She made it on the Doctor’s behalf and now here I am.” She said it with a shrug as if the fact that she had talked to a spaceship that could travel through time was a normal, everyday occurrence.

“Sage, you do know that this is a _ship_ , right?” he said slowly, and Sage rolled her eyes, entirely amused.

“Jack, this is a Time Lord ship. The literal ‘engine’ that’s fuelling this place is like the Void or something. Raft? What do you mean you’re powered by a raft? Energy? What? What is it?” Sage looked up and the ship’s lights dimmed. She lifted her fingers, tracing letters in the air and mouthing along with them. “It’s Rift Energy, I guess. Powered by the Eye of Harmony. I dunno, there’s a lot of science and math involved and I’ve never been good at either of those.”

Jack watched with fascination at the one-sided conversation. How Sage’s eyes unfocused, staring at the wall, almost glazed over. Her head tilted to the side as if she was listening to someone speak to her. Jack shivered, feeling as if there were eyes watching his every move, judging him.

“Never heard of the Eye of Harmony,” Jack said. The oven dinged. He pulled on oven mitts, opening the oven door and letting the steam billow out first before he carefully took out the cookie tray.

“Shit, that smells amazing.”

“And that amazing smell can burn you if you don’t let it cool.” Jack smacked Sage’s hand when she tried to steal a cookie, who pouted at her foiled attempt at nabbing the cookie. “I didn’t think the TARDIS could speak to humans.”

Sage shrugged, “It’s not really speaking. We’re both limited by our own languages and so she relies heavily on pictures and the alphabet flashing in my head. Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll do it to you,” she said in response to Jack’s concerned look.

“Really? Does the Doctor know?”

“No, and you won’t tell him if you know what’s good for you.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because, I’ve only just barely got him to stop seeing me as an enemy on the battlefield. Telling him I can somewhat communicate with his spaceship is gonna raise some more redflags. He already barely trusts me enough as it is. I don’t need him seeing me as a science experiment on top of the trust issues.”

“He doesn’t trust you? I don’t know if I believe that.” Jack tried to think back on the other two’s interactions to see the tension of distrust that Sage was highlighting. But beyond the disapproval towards Sage’s reckless decisions and concern for Sage’s safety, he really couldn’t see what she was talking about.

“He doesn’t, but he wants to.” Sage lifted her shoulders carelessly, snatching a cookie before Jack could stop her. Mumbling around the crumbs, “Holy shit. These are good. Might give Mickey a run for his money actually if you two did compete.”

Jack preened at the compliment, nabbing his own cookie and closing his eyes when the thing melts in his mouth, warm chocolate chips coating his tongue.

“What was life in the TIme Agency like? Was it all like James Bond and all that? Did you meet any Bond girls?” Sage’s attempt at waggling her eyebrows made Jack laugh out loud, the tension in his shoulders relaxed at her attempt at humour. The question dug at Jack though because his memories….

“Frustrating,” he admitted, finishing off the cookie.

Sage furrowed her brows, looking at Jack more attentively, eyes calculating. Jack tried not to tense up, forcing himself to relax his muscles, giving Sage a lazy smile. No matter how friendly the two of them were now, Jack was a private person for all his exhibitionist tendencies.

“They did something to you,” Sage said matter of factly, and Jack should’ve known that she would’ve caught on sooner or later.

“They stole two years of my memory.”

“And they didn’t tell you why?”

“No, and that’s why I wanted to con a Time Agent.” Jack turned away, reaching around to grab the edges of the countertop. He sucked in a deep breath. This was much too revealing for his taste, and he wanted to drown out the irritation building in his chest. Maybe with booze. Or sex. Something at least.

“Bit of petty revenge?”

“Something like that,” Jack grit out. There was no condensation in her voice. No patronizing. No emotion except for curiosity. And that made him feel torn. Because it irked at him because he couldn’t tell _what_ she was feeling. If she was pitying him or indulging his venting.

“Well, fuck them,” Sage declared. And Jack startled, lifting his head cautiously. The fire in Sage’s eyes really, really shouldn’t have surprised him. But it did, especially when he finally realized that it wasn’t directed _at_ him, but _for_ him.

Something in his chest cracked a bit at that thought.

“You don’t need them anymore. You’ve got us, and fuck them for screwing with you and your memories.” Sage softened when he only continued to stare at her with wide eyes, and she pushed herself off the countertop, cautiously going over to him.

He didn’t move when Sage laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, gripping it tighter when he didn’t jolt out of her grip. “I can’t promise that we’ll ever get your memories back, but I can promise that I’ll be there for you as best I can. I’ve no idea what the future holds for us, Captain Jack Harkness, but I sincerely can’t wait to find out.”

She grinned at him, determined and bright. And Jack found himself grinning back just as big and just as fond. Something else was unfurling from the crack in his chest, something warm and radiant and Jack found himself wanting to chase that feeling forever.

“Wanna take these cookies to the movie room and shit on reality shows?” He gave her a wide, genuine smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Sage knew that Jack and Rose were trying their best. But their best were walking around on damn near tiptoes that it made Sage want to punch something.

Which she had, for hours. It hadn’t done much to help her besides give her sore, aching muscles for days on end.

She had regretted the decision when the Doctor only continued to drop the four of them into more troublesome adventures that they barely got out by the skin of their teeth. Amusing, though it were, Sage’s muscles and body did not thank her for it.

So she had relegated herself to just floating in one of the pools. Suited in a modest one-piece and letting her float like a corpse in the river, Sage had found that just laying atop water was just as relaxing even if it meant that her thoughts pestered her more.

See, she knew what Jack and Rose were attempting to do.

They were testing the waters so to speak, trying to see where her threshold of revealing bits of her past before trying to burrow in deeper into her and stay there. To get close and to _stay_.

And damn it all, it was working.

Right, proper bastards those two were, making overtures at friendships that were _genuine_ and to show that they cared and all that. She almost missed the days she stayed isolated and in her own flat of solitude.

Almost.

Sage sighed, closing her eyes, took a deep breath, and ducked down under water. Her hair fanned out, weightless above her in the water. She opened her eyes, the chlorine of the water burning her eyes slightly. She breathed out through her nose, an angry mass of bubbles swarming in front of her face.

Her lungs burned, staying underwater with no chance of air. Her arms were lackadaisical, fluttering weakly to keep her underneath the surface. Sage closed her eyes again, the pounding of her heart echoing in her head.

It was too much.

Sage surfaced quickly, darting up and breaking the tension. Air filled her lungs with a rapid sense of urgency, her chest heaving as her body tried to adjust back into having a regular influx of oxygen.

She wiped away the water from her eyes, scrubbing her face clean. Sage bounced herself up and down in the water, arms circling to ensure that she doesn’t lose her balance. With a sigh, she swam towards the edge of the pool. Hoisting herself over the edge, she yelped as a towel that fell on her head.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Sage asked, cautiously taking the towel off her head. She dried her hair slowly, waiting on an answer that wasn’t going to come. “Was that you?” She asked without looking anywhere, knowing that the TARDIS would answer that one.

The ship hummed a soft affirmative, dimming the lights even further. There was a melancholy in her answer, puzzling Sage. What would make a spaceship sad?

“What are you crying about?” Sage wrung her hair dry in the towel, shaking out the excess water. She wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her hair out and laying it flat against her back. “Aww, come on, there’s nothing to hide between you and me, despite the fact that I can’t remember yours. You’ve seen my darkest moments now even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Sage tapped the side of her head, “Two way street, isn’t it?” The TARDIS remained quiet, an almost silent whoosh as the lights dim to almost nothing. Sage laughed harshly, and the TARDIS groaned in exasperation.

“I’ll go shower then,” Sage pushed herself up, the rivulets of water washing down her legs like rivers. It didn’t take long for her to shower, changing into loose pyjamas and toweling off her hair roughly. She draped the towel around her shoulders, pulling her pants up to her knees, dipping her feet back into the water.

She kicked her legs slowly, back and forth, back and forth, mesmerized by the movement of the water. With a sigh, she leant back with her hands holding her up. Closing her eyes, she let the TARDIS’s low noises of chaos lull her to a doze.

“No,” Sage said without even opening her eyes. “Don’t let the others in. I know they’re worried, but I… just want to be alone. Lock the doors…. Yes, even from the Doctor. It’s bad enough that I’ve got you listening to my every wayward thought, no? I don’t want _him_ kicking around in there either, no matter how much he insists that it’s impolite.”

Sage let out a groan of frustration, pulling her feet out of the water brusquely. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I can’t get over him. I can’t get over him, and it’s been five fucking years.”

She buried her head into her arms, shutting away the rest of the world. Logically, she knew that trauma didn’t forget itself easily. Those memories crept back in just as easily as the wind blew a simple breeze.

She just wanted to _forget._ Forget everything bad that happened in her life. Live with a smile and a laugh and not be reminded of the scars that paint her skin. It hurt to remember. It hurt to forget. It hurt to live.

“Ayeesh,” she groaned in frustration, ruffling her hair and then grimacing at the wet feeling. “I hate this so much. And then Rose and Jack will butt in and then the whole thing will somehow get to the Doctor and my whole life will be ruined. I never should’ve gotten into this ship.”

The TARDIS darkened the room before flicking the lights to full brightness, momentarily dazing Sage. She shielded her eyes, rubbing them to get rid of the spots in her vision. The heel of her hand to her eyes, she said, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. No need to blind me anymore than I already am.”

The TARDIS groaned, the sound somehow akin to rolling her eyes. Sage sighed in exasperation. “I don’t regret meeting you.” The ship only met her with disbelieving silence. “I _don’t_. You’ve made my life much more bearable. Reading another essay might’ve been the thing that did me in, swear down.”

There was a gust of exasperation, a hidden, possessive satisfaction in the action, that made Sage grin back cheekily. She leant back on her hands again, basking in the dim golden yellow lights of the pool room. Sage sighed, straightening and lying with her feet to the side.

“You and the Doctor,” Sage muttered belatedly, closing her eyes again and pinching the bridge of her nose. A migraine was burgeoning in her temple, and she massaged it to try and temper the pain.

The Doctor… she still didn’t know where she stood with him. Where was the line and had it already been drawn or did she still need to find it? There were times where the Doctor seemed to enjoy her presence, egging her on to see how she would react, prodding and poking until she was black and blue. Watching with a certain degree of fascination that made her roll her eyes.

She hypothesized that he was impressed with the fact that she never did anything he predicted, that she had her own agenda that never quite lined up with his.

And she delighted in surprising him in turn. It was like a game, and both of them could be winners. But Sage always played to win.

So she pushed back, as much as she would dare. She veered left when all signs pointed right, she went back instead of going forwards, she stopped when going on was a much better option. The Doctor didn’t seem to know what to do with her. Fatalistic and reckless, and Sage thrilled in the opportunity to fuck with the alien man.

It amused him to see how she would react. And it amused _her_ when all she did was frustrate him. A tug of war with no sense of balance and no clear winner.

Jack and Rose always seemed to be thrown into the mix, not always partnering with the same person. Sometimes Jack and Sage teamed up, and that made the Doctor go _crazy_ because neither of them seemed to have an idea on how to be careful and putting them together was a recipe for disaster.

Or maybe it would be her and Rose. Girls versus boys. The girls won, obviously. The other two had nothing against the united front that was her and Rose.

But, and Sage would never admit this to him, she preferred it when the two of them worked together to figure something out, to help save others. It always ended with a thrill and a jump hug that ended far too quickly for her liking.

No, she didn’t regret meeting the Doctor, despite the strife and grief he gave her at times. Because without him, she would’ve never met Mickey, Jackie, Rose or Jack. She wouldn’t have this little family that she made. Little, a bit broken and bruised, but still good.

“You know,” she said aloud to the empty pool room, words echoing slightly around her, “I never got to thank you. At least not directly. You were the one who made the noise, that made me curious enough to check out a dark alleyway at night despite all warning signs telling me no. So thank you. You— you really helped me out there.”

The TARDIS did her own rendition of a smug smile, mentally puffing her chest out in pride. Sage laughed loudly, free and expressive. She clapped her hands together, and the TARDIS delighted in the sound.

The ship chirped along happily, playing nondescript music that Sage felt was familiar but could not place. She hummed along regardless, her smile faint and fond as her fingers dipped into the pool. Tracing patterns of swirls and squiggles, sharp shapes that softened with each passing second.

The two stayed content in each other’s presence, soothed by the companionable accompaniment. Sage let the song flow free between the two of them, absentminded and unworried.

With steady hands and unsteady feet, she pushed herself off the ground, wiping her wet hand on the towel around her shoulders. Her hips swayed along to the music, and she let her eyes slip shut, trusting the TARDIS to warn her if she ran into anything. Her hand lifted subconsciously, conducting a nonexistent orchestra along to the music.

The doors opened for her automatically, and she passed through them, a hand caressing the frame with a silent thank you. She walked down the hallway, feet digging into the carpeted floor that the TARDIS put down just for her. The chill of the air raised goosebumps on her skin, and she rubbed her arms for warmth. But she kept her eyes closed, letting the TARDIS lead her to her own room.

The music that the ship had played had long since turned off, yet Sage had continued to hum, riffing little pieces of melodies that made her smile. She twirled, towel swinging around her shoulders, nearly falling off in her enthusiasm.

She laughed. Exuberant and bright. She picked up her dancing, not much more than just a few twirls, some head bopping, fast little spins that made her dizzy. No music played. Just the sound of her laughter and joy filled the little hallway as she whirled through, hair flying around her.

She spun so fast, stopping when she reached her door with a slam stopped by her hands. Sage doubled over in giggles, fits that wracked her whole body. Barely held up by the door and comforted by the fact that she was _happy_.

Sage sucked in a breath, then another, and another to try and even out her breathing, calm her beating heart. Her cheeks ached with the force of her smiles and her head screamed with the tendrils of another migraine. Sage shivered, hands over her face as she tried to smother her happiness.

She thumped her head against the door, calming herself enough to slip through but not without another whispered thanks and a fleeting smile.

Around the corner, much too far away for Sage to realize or notice, both Jack and Rose slipped back to their own rooms, giving each other a small little nod and smile of acknowledgement and relief.

And back in the console room, the Doctor stopped tinkering with the console, letting a small smile quirk up on his lips before he shook his head and went back to work.

Domestics were best left to the apes after all.

* * *

“Would you rather only eat cheese for the rest of your life or only listen to “I Got You, Babe” for the rest of your life?”

“You’re a sick bastard, Tyler,” Sage said in horror, and Rose only cackled wickedly as Sage dropped her head into her hands as she tried to make a decision. Jack raised a drink in toast, laughing loudly along with Rose.

They were in Rose’s bedroom, a sensible pale blue as the decor instead of the pink monstrosity that was Jackie Tyler’s flat. Wrappers and soda cans littered the ground, near the rubbish bin but not exactly inside it.

Rose and Sage were lounging on her bed and Jack had pulled a chair from somewhere, reclining back on it with his feet splayed on one end of the bed. Jack was watching as Rose and Sage ate plate after plate of his baked goods with a smug little smile on his face as he crossed his arms behind him and rested his head on them.

“You weren’t seven when that movie came out, when’d you get to watch it?”

“Mum had an odd thing for Bill Murray,” Rose said, munching on some nibbles. “I never saw the appeal, but every February, mum would pop that movie on the telly and we’d watch it for hours.”

“It is a rather funny movie,” Sage nodded.

“Not if you watch it for hours on end!” Rose protested, “it was like I was in my own Groundhog Day myself. It was _awful_.”

“Mmm, but that _hair_ ,” Jack licked his lips exaggeratedly.

“Oh, not you too,” Rose groaned, shoving him when he laughed.

“Eat cheese,” Sage declared, “you never said I can’t pair the cheese with wine or summat.”

“I said _only_ cheese,” Rose shot back, “that’s implied that you can only eat cheese, nothing else included.”

“Even still, at least there’s variety. I can’t listen to the same song over and over again, I’d go mental.”

“Ya know, Sagie,” Jack started, “your accent starts getting proper cockney the longer you keep talking. It’s right weird, it is.” He ended, trying to mimic Rose’s accent and laughing when both Rose and Sage made a face at his attempt.

“Don’t do that,” they both said at the same time.

“You don’t sound like Captain Jack Harkness,” Rose said in an exaggerated American accent.

“Hey! You don’t sound half bad like a Yankee,” Sage grinned, elbowing her in the side.

Rose screwed up her face, lifting her nose in a mockery of a haughty expression. “No thanks, I’ll leave the Yankee to you and Jack.

“No shit, you’re from the US?” Jack asked, looking at Sage with wide eyes. She nodded, and Jack nudged her with his shoulder. “I never knew. What the hell? Your accent’s pretty fucking good.”

“No, it ain’t,” Rose snorted and Sage had to sheepishly nod her head in agreement. “Sage has the worst fucking accent ever. Some sort of amalgamation of Queen’s posh and an estuary one. Could barely understand her when we first met.”

“Hey, I’d like to think I’ve gotten better now.”

“ _Ha_! Barely.”

“Okay, bastardized cockney, not like you’re one to talk. Your accent is the one that Americans make fun of all the time.”

“Hey, why are we making fun of our accents when we could make fun of _the Doctor’s_!” Jack interrupted with a waggle of eyebrows. “Because I can’t fucking understand him at all. What accent is that?”

“Northern,” both Rose and Sage said again.

“Manchester, specifically. It ain’t that bad either,” Rose said thoughtfully. “Though maybe that’s just how the TARDIS is interpreting his accent. The ship goes into your head, you know? Translates all the languages and whatnot.”

“That explains why I could suddenly understand Howloxican,” Jack said in realization. “I thought I swallowed a translator pill by accident. It’s known to happen sometimes,” he explained to the other women’s inquiring gazes.

“Nah, just the translator thing-y of the ship’s,” Rose waved away the concern, trusting the Doctor’s explanation. “Thought it was freaky before, invasive, you know? But the Doctor explained it. It doesn’t go into your head or nothing. Just the part of your brain that understands languages.”

“Still a bit freaky though,” Sage said. “Couldn’t he have told us rather than just offhandedly mention it when we ask? He’s a bit scatterbrained when it comes to people not like him, ain’t he?”

“He always thinks he’s so high and mighty, makes me want to hit ‘im or something,” Rose agreed, nodding. She blew out a breath, taking a bite out of the pastry. She groaned in appreciation, “I still can’t believe you turned out to be a fucking baker, Jack. You sure this didn’t come out of a ready-made package?”

Jack laid a hand over his chest, another over his mouth, exaggerating a wounded expression. “I’m offended that you think so lowly of me, Rose. I’ll have you know I was a juniour world champion patissiere.”

“Juniour?” Sage raised a brow, looking over him. “Man, you musta exaggerated your skills if the bar was that low.”

“Sage Tran, did you just make a _dick_ joke?” Jack said, mock scandalized. He shared grins and giggles with Rose when Sage sighed long-sufferingly.

“Why do you think I’m so posh?” Sage asked, exasperated. “Is it because I wear glasses? You think I’m sophisticated or something because I need help to see? Last I checked wearing glasses is not posh.”

“It’s the way you hold yourself sometimes,” Rose piped up, Jack nodding his head, agreeing. “Like you’re on your way to meet royalty. Back straight, eyes wild with fire even when your words are mild.”

“It’s called being _polite_. Don’t cost nothing to be kind.” Sage bit viciously into her chocolate cookie when both Rose and Jack made skeptical looking faces at her.

“It doesn’t, you’re right,” Jack bobbed his head up and down in agreement, “sometimes you’re just _too_ kind. Nothing wrong with it, just not something everyone can do.”

Rose nodded her head quickly in agreement, eyes beseeching forgiveness. Sage sighed exaggeratedly, patting Rose on the head consolingly. Rose batted her hand away and Sage retaliated back with tickling her.

“Jack! Jack!” Rose laughed, pushing at Sage’s tickling fingers between shrieks of laughter. “Save me! Jack!”

“Ope, here we go!” Jack swooped in, grabbing Sage around the waist and swung her away from Rose. Sage laughed, squirming in Jack’s hold to get him to let her go, halfheartedly pushing at his grip and kicking her legs.

Rose laughed with them, pointing at Sage and doubling over in joy.

“Jack, c’mon!” Sage said, shaking with laughter and still swinging in his hold. “Let me go! Why didn’t you grab Rose ‘stead of me?” Jack opened his arms, dropping Sage bodily to the ground. She caught herself, folding into a crouch.

With a huff, she glared at Jack who only smiled at her with a shit-eating grin. She rolled her eyes, and, quick as a flash, swept her feet underneath Jack’s, toppling him over onto his back. “That’s what you get,” Sage said, standing up and dusting herself off as Jack stayed down, dazed.

Sage jumped away before Jack could retaliate with a laugh. Jumping onto the bed, the pillows and empty cookie plate bouncing on the mattress, and using Rose as a shield.

“Oi!” Rose tried to get out of Sage’s grip, moving left and right before finally pushing Sage’s hands away. “If you’re gonna start a brawl, leave me out of it.”

“Not a brawl if we ain’t in a bar,” Jack pointed out.

“Brawls aren’t exclusive to bars, moron,” Sage said sardonically. “Just because you’re always fighting in one doesn’t mean you get exclusive rights to the location.”

Jack raised an eyebrow in challenge, “Yeah? That so? Might explain why I’m always getting thrown out of bars so often then. Thought it was just a rite of passage to fight in one. Ain’t that right, 21st century.”

“You can’t just hold our time period against us like that,” Rose groaned, falling back on her bed, head hanging over the edge with her hair fanned out below her.

“Uhh, humanity says otherwise,” Jack said, pulling on her strands of hair. Rose yelped, pushing his hands away, and Sage watched it all with a fond smile on her face.

There was something familiar about this whole display, something wholly nostalgic as Rose and Jack bicker and banter with each other, the two of them poking and prodding in fun. A scene that was both wistful and intimate that carved deep gouges into Sage’s skin. A hurt that she was so intimately familiar with that it ached and burned within her. A simmering heat that warmed her heart and scorched her mind.

She blinked, and she could see both Matthew and Izzie roughhousing on the bed, pulling at each other’s hair and hitting each other in annoyance. Her baby brother and sister, playing with each other and annoying each other once more in chaotic harmony.

She blinked.

“Sage! Save me!” Rose came into vision, not Izzie. Yelped when Jack, not Mattie, bounced on her, covering her with her weight and pressing her down into the mattress. “Ugh, get your fat arse off me!”

“Hey! I’m _not_ fat,” he said, indignant, pressing down even more. “I’m well built with more muscles than you could ever imagine having.”

“Not from where I’m sitting, buddy,” Rose poked him in the nose, making him blink down, cross eyed, at her finger. “Bugger off, would you?”

“Sage! Rose is being mean to me,” Jack pouted, but he still pulled away, helping Rose sit up with a hand. Rose tried to sort out her hair, combing through it with her fingers. Jack just tousled his hair again, not even remotely trying to fix it.

“And you call yourselves adults,” Sage scoffed playfully, “just like children, you two are,” rolling her eyes at the two of them. She didn’t even bother trying to hide her cheeky grin, batting innocent eyelashes at their dumbstruck faces.

“Oi!”

“Fuck you!”

The other two immediately shot back, incredulous and offended. With a simultaneous look that could be arguably called telepathic, the two launched at Sage who shrieked with laughter. The three of them tousled at each other with the energy of five year olds. They pulled, tickled, pushed, and hit with pillows. Calling it an outright war would be an understatement. They were chaotic and messy, rolling over the bed and falling off with the blanket covering them as a shield against the rest of the world.

Exhausted, the three of them splayed out on the floor, arms and legs akimbo and body starfished out as far as they could reach, always touching one another. Their chests heaved, cheeks ruddy and red in their enthusiasm.

Sage felt full.

Full of life and love and almost bursting with happiness as she laid in between Jack and Rose, arms stretched out and laid atop of their chests. Almost vibrating with exuberance as she took breath after breath of air, trying to calm her beating heart.

For the first time in his life, Jack felt happy. And not the blissed out happy that followed after a well good fuck. But truly and properly happy. He laid, closest to the door, in front of Sage and Rose, a shield and protection. He felt welcomed and acknowledged, embraced in the feeling of friendship.

Rose hadn’t known that she could feel so safe. Back in her mum’s flat, there was such a mundanity in getting up and going to work. Day after day, minute after minute of the same thing over and over again. But there was always that creeping feeling that Jimmy would come back, would get out of prison and just _take_ her back to him. That she wouldn’t ever get the feeling of safety again, always looking over her shoulder just in case, double and triple checking to make sure that she wasn’t being followed.

Here, laying next to Sage with Jack laying just a bit ahead of her, she felt, for the first time in a long while, that she could just close her eyes and knew she would be safe.

There was something to be said about a madness shared with three. Folie à trois. She wouldn’t call herself delusional, and she definitely didn’t have the courage to call the other two crazy either. But there was something about experiencing the experiences the three of them have shared together that Sage only felt understood. Seen. Known.

And they all basked in the feeling of being loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Lunar New Year!!!
> 
> Alright, I lied. The tentative turned out to be finished early and now here I am with another 10k+. _Again_. Anyway, my plan for the next four chapters are to be completely original. Well, original in the sense that it hadn't aired on TV, if yanno what I mean. So it'll be four chapters and then the arc for the Ninth Doctor's regeneration will begin which will be another three chapters and :(((((((. I need to focus on Nine more; he's my favourite Doctor. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. Especially you, RisikaKiisu. Your comments keep me alive when I'm stressing out and I reread them constantly. Please leave a comment below, and I will see _you_ in the next chapter!
> 
> Goodbye, bye, bye!!!


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